A Banquet of Consequences
by jmkw
Summary: Post S5 Finale. Beware: Rated for some not so fluffy situations. WJ
1. The Chambers

_"Before every action ask yourself. __Will this bring more monkeys on my back? __Will the result of my action be a blessing or a heavy burden?"_  
-Alfred A. Montapert

* * *

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. I just like to toss them in the air every once in awhile and see what kind of crap falls out of their pockets.**

**Warning: I'm tossing the characters in a world that might not be comfortable for some, so read at your own risk. **

* * *

Chapter 1: The Chambers 

She felt dead on the inside out and knew nothing could scrub it from her senses. Her mouth tasted sour, every breath she drew smelled like decay. Her ears heard a constant ringing and there was clamminess to her skin that made her feel as if she borrowed it from one of the cadavers at the morgue. Her body was not her own. Her mind? She didn't what to go there...

She took a deep breath and counted to twenty. It was over. At least it was going to be over. As over as it could ever be. As sure as she knew the sun was going to rise tomorrow, Jordan knew it would never truly be _over. _The evidence she had would go a long way to exonerating her...but at what cost?

Was it all worth it?

Even though there wasn't a visible sign of it, she still felt like she had some of JD's blood on her...in her hair, under her fingernails. No matter what she did, she could still smell it, taste it, feel it. It was heavy, like guilt, and she knew it would follow her forever. JD was still dead and her life would never, _ever_, be the same again.

Jordan slipped the tiny recorder inside the cup of her bra. Once it was secure she took quick once over of the room to make sure she was indeed alone. She bit her lip and picked up the payphone. The tiny voice in her head said it was too dangerous to make this particular call from The Chambers, but Jordan overrode her natural instincts and dialed his number anyway.

Tomorrow it might be different but at that moment she didn't care if she was caught...or silenced. She just wanted it over. All she cared about was the dozen whispered words she had sold her soul to get.

'_...Pollack bagged for his little bitch's life. It was the least I could do.' _

* * *

Forty days and forty nights. 

That's how long she'd been gone.

When Jordan chose to disappear she could fall off the face of the map. He had to admit there was some small comfort in that. She's done it before and it didn't take a detective to know she could do it again. So that fateful night, when she returned one of his many phone messages, he knew it was just a call to say she was leaving.

He asked her to stop and think about what she was doing. He told her to sit tight, that it wasn't as bad as it looked. She saw straight through the lie. He begged her not to go, but knew in his heart she was already gone.

As a cop, Woody learned pretty quickly that there was an "us" and a "them". Jordan may be many things...some of them not very pleasant...but she was never a "_them". _

And for the first time in his career he didn't know if he considered himself an..."_us"_.

He asked her to meet him in front of the empty pharmacy. The day he had use his firearm for the first time. The same place his innocence started to fade. The meeting was brief, more of a face to face goodbye. He handed her all the cash he could get his hands on and told her to stay in touch. Jordan didn't make any promises, he made none in return.

In the end, they both knew what they had to do. Woody went to a wedding to go to and Jordan a plane. So, when his phone rang at three in the morning he wasn't all that surprised it was her.

"Hey..."

* * *

It was lightly drizzling when his plane landed at Reagan International. He drove his rental straight to the address he had on a scribbled sheet of paper. Jordan's late-night call was frustratingly short. She said she had the proof she needed and asked him to run interface with Walcott for her. She'd return to Boston as soon as she knew she'd have an open-minded ear in the DA's office and a very visible one on the six o'clock news. 

She'd be in touch.

Thank God for star sixty-nine.

It took him ten tries, in as many hours, to get someone to answer the extension. The cleaning woman that picked up the phone's English was as halting as Woody's Spanish but after a few seconds he had the information he needed.

He ran the address. The Chambers was located in an upscale section of downtown DC...right in the heart of the acres of office space that housed the pencil pushers of high government. The perfect location to offer a little escape from the trials and tribulations of mastering the free world. It may be low key; it maybe exclusive; it may even be on the Registry of Historical Buildings, but it was what it was.

On the outside, it was an unassuming brownstone located just northeast of the Capital. Another time Woody would have just walked past not knowing that it was the kind of place you read about in the pages of _Maxim_, _GQ_ and _Playboy_.

How she found herself there he'll probably never know. All he cared about was making sure she was alright...and to bring her home. The case, the leads, the sheer unbelievably of the whole situation was hard to stomach. The half empty bottle of Maalox in his bag was proof of that.

The door whooshed as the rain soaked weather stripping caught on the polish-brass doorjamb. Woody's membership card came in the form of two hundred dollar bills slipped to the doorman. Once inside he was instantly engulfed in the blue haze of black market Cubans, power broker aftershave, alpha male greed, all with an underlying stench of illicit sex. He checked his coat with the silicone-based Barbie look-alike at the door and went in search of the main lounge.

One look around the space couldn't hide the fact that The Chambers Room offered the same goods as any other titty-bar did. It just was more discreet about it. He paid for his required three drink minimum and found a table toward the back so he could watch the room. He let out the breath he was holding when he saw the sloe-eyed dancer on the abbreviated stage wasn't her. Maybe the address was wrong. There was a part of him that hoped it was.

It was just before ten o'clock when he saw her.

The blonde hair and artificial tan threw him off for a second, but there was know denying those legs. He'd know them anywhere. It was all he could do not to run over to her and...

Do what? Tell her that they were one step behind her. She needed to trust him. Evidence or no, it would be just a matter of time before they found her and put her behind bars. Or just simply shake some sense in her, wrap her in his jacket, and get her out of there. He wanted to ask her what. What was it she found? And selfishly why. Why was she in a place like this?

He set there, watching. Blue eyes taking inventory of every curve obviously on display in the tight fitting dress.

She moved among the men at the bar like a practiced hustler. Touching them here, brushing them there, whispering close to their ears...flirting just out of their reach. He felt like someone had just kicked him in the gut.

"Beautiful isn't she?"

Woody didn't turn to look at the owner of the drunken slur, he didn't dare. He was afraid he'd wrap his hands around the pricks neck and squeeze until there was nothing left. The last few weeks had taken its toll on the shaky power he had over his self control. He simply mumbled something intelligible and took a deep draw on his draft.

"She calls herself Brandy, but I don't think that's her real name."

Woody allowed himself to look at the drunkard at the table next to him. Seeing he finally had an audience, the zipper-head sat up, giving Woody a leering grin. "She started here a few weeks ago. A little older than the usual girls, but damn...look at her."

Woody did. He watched as she draped her arm casually over a white-haired man's shoulder. He could hear her husky laugh all the way across the room.

"Would you look at that mouth? I bet she could suck an olive through a straw."

Woody was well aware of what that mouth could do and it had nothing to do with an olive. He must have made a noise deep in his throat because his cheery welcoming committee quickly shuffled his chair a few inches away and hovered over his drink like a vulture over fresh road kill.

* * *

Jordan calmly extricated the lobbyist's hand from beneath the hem of her skirt. Puckering her painted lips, she waved her finger in the air at him, giving him a tsk-tsk. She knew it was like waving a red flag, but she was so close to the end she could feel it. 

It took weeks before she had names to go along with the hieroglyphics she could glean from Pollack's notes. The bloody Aussie was so worried about protecting his sources, he inadvertently protected his killers.

Now that she had what she needed, Jordan was greedy. She may have JD's killer, but she couldn't ignore his legacy. The story that got him killed. She not only wanted the trigger man, she wanted the person that ordered the hit. And wanted to give him enough rope to hang himself.

For the first few days after leaving Boston, Jordan lived in an uncomfortable middle... staying one step ahead of the law chasing her and one behind those who killed JD. She started with a quick search of JD's DC apartment. Luckily, she found it before the feds.

It was small, even by her standards..but that was JD. It was one of the things that attracted her to him. He had no concept of home. He didn't need ties. Or so she thought. He lived out of a suitcase and needed only a place to lay his head.

She knew his computer was in the custody of the Boston PD...but not everything. It didn't take her long to find it. A matchbook. JD didn't smoke. It led her to The Chambers...and the men who patronized it.

There was only two ways a female could get inside. Jordan was between a rock and a hard place and it was her only lead. She didn't have any other choice. She was desperate. It was only temporary and frankly it would take care of her immediate finances. By the end of the day Brandy was born and a fraction of Jordan's self-respect was dead.

The cost was high...but the rewards were great. Jordan found herself on the inside. It was only a matter of time before she had what she came for.

And it did.

She called Woody. He was the only person in the department she could trust. What she had would be damning too many very powerful people. A layman always assumed police corruption only came from the streets. From experience, Jordan knew that shit flowed both ways. She needed someone she could trust to watch her back.

As if she could conger Woody up out of thin air, Jordan looked across the room. Her eyes locked with his. Her gasp was audible.


	2. She Calls Herself Brandy

Chapter 2: She Calls Herself Brandy

"Brandy darlin', Davis isn't trying to cop another feel is he? Why don't you come over here and have a seat." His tone a smooth drawl. She didn't need to look at the owner of the voice to know he was patting the knee of his thousand dollar slacks.

Jordan cut a look at the senator's advisor and gave him what she hoped was a charming smile. "No sir, he's being a gentleman as usual, but if you'll excuse me. I'll see if I can round up a bottle of your favorite."

As nonchalantly as she could, Jordan strolled out of the room with the grace that only a woman that was used to five-inch stilettos could. She didn't have to turn around to see if Woody had followed her. She could feel him like the static build up before a bolt of lighting hit the ground during a summer storm. He was just as unwelcome and just as deadly. That damn phone call.

She led him down an out-of-the-way corridor with discreet oak doors. To the casual observer like looked like simple office entrances, perhaps private meeting rooms. Jordan was privy to their real purpose. She wrapped her arms around her waist.

During her job interview, the owner of the Chambers told her that solicitation was against the rules. He took great amusement to tell her this while she was on her knees in front of him. She hurried past the first few doors, ignoring the bustle from private parties and intimate rendezvous. The rooms further down, were the sounds were more muffled and more nefarious.

The public wanted to believe the business of the nation was taken care of in the hallowed boardrooms of Capital Hill...when the truth was deals were brokered and sold in rooms like this all over the city.

It was one of the reasons she was here. Information.

Jordan continued down where the plush carpet ended and the commercial grade tile start knowing it was her best bet to get rid of Woody while remaining unnoticed. She slipped inside the wine cellar at the end of the hallway and left the door open, just a crack.

She didn't have to wait long before he walked in quietly shutting the door behind him.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed.

Jordan's tone didn't help Woody's attitude. He didn't think she'd welcome him with a fanfare of trumpets, but he didn't expect her open animosity either.

"I'd think that would be obvious," he said, reaching out to grab her arm. "If we leave now we can catch the redeye out..."

Jordan stiffly moved out of his reach. He traced the call...or someone did for him. She trusted him and by the looks of it that faith was going to be a fatal error.

"How could you?"

He let the question slide without comment. To answer her truthfully, would undoubtedly incriminate himself. "You asked for my help, so I'm giving it to you. You have no idea the tap-danc..."

She cut him off without preamble. "If you want me to leave with you, you're going to have to drag me out in cuffs."

"I don't think it would be that out of place in a joint like this." he said, his teeth showing in what he probably wanted to be a smile but looked like more of a snarl.

"You don't have any jurisdiction here."

"I'm not here officially Jordan. I told you I'm off the case. I'm here as a friend."

A friend? If she died tomorrow she couldn't name six friends who would want to be her pallbearers. Not now.

"I told you I'd call when I was ready. I can take care of myself." Her tone was reserved, like they were strangers.

Woody looked around, his disgust was barely hidden. "That's evident."

Jordan looked over her shoulder as if she was ready for it to open at any second. "Go home Woody. I'm not ready yet. Leave me alone...please."

"You said you had some evidence..."

The hair on the back of her neck went up. Maybe it was just paranoia, but looking at him standing there...in the wine cellar of The Chambers when he should be safely tuck away in Boston...and she couldn't help but wonder if she knew what he was capable of at all. He didn't need to be on the case. Lu was.

His Lu.

Was she right outside?

Woody took one step closer. He pushed. She thought he betrayed her again. He could tell the fragile trust they developed the night he gave her all the money he had and assured her that he never saw her...was shattered by his just being there.

And if he read her right there was something more. Something even more personal. Shame?

"Come back with me," he pleaded. "Let the police do their job. I promise I'll keep you safe."

Jordan's laugh was full and hearty, but there was no humor in it whatsoever. She should have never picked up that phone. "The police want to lock me up for a crime I didn't commit."

"The investigation is open and active Jordan. Nobody thinks you pulled that trigger..."he whispered. Jordan couldn't help but notice that he couldn't look her in the eye.

The subject of the story JD was working on resonated through her. "You don't mind if I don't hold too much faith in your _open, active_ case?"

Jordan rummaged around the racks coming up with a bottle of vintage Shiraz. She twisted her lips, letting her guard slip ever so slightly. "He told me an Australian introduced him to this wine a few months ago..."

Woody cupped his palms over her shoulders. "Let me help you."

Jordan could see the sincerity in his face. That tired, beat down look that that told her the last six weeks had been as rough for him as they had been sheer hell for her.

"I have to go. I'm on stage in ten minutes," she said almost apologetically. "Go home Woody. Just...go home. Please. I'll be in touch."

If only it was in his power, he would snap his fingers and they'd magically be somewhere, anywhere, other than here, and this nightmare would all be over.

"I can't do that."

He tried to stop her one last time before she could walk out the door. His eyes were the color of her favorite faded jeans and they used to make her feel just as comfortable. So much has changed.

"Please," she said finally pushing past him. "Stay out of my way."

Jordan held her breath until she realized Lu wasn't right outside the door. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe Lu was waiting for her at the airport. It was tidier that way.

Woody let her go. He found her and she was alive. Now it was time to think like a cop and take matters one step at a time. He'd honored her wishes...to a point. Woody went back to his table along the wall, well out of her way.

He told himself once she left the walls of the club, all bets were off.

* * *

The dressing room at The Chambers had all the charm of a public toilet. Not that any of the regular girls really cared. Behind the curtain they were not required to be 'on'. 

Jordan quickly discovered that conversations boiled down to monosyllable responses and simply phrased, lifeless reports about the floor. The women weren't here to make friends. They were only there to make a living. And as result, it made Jordan's existence there somewhat easier to handle.

She eyed her costume on the hanger. Or more to the fact, what there was of it. The black Lycra halter top and mini skirt consisted mostly of criss-crossing straps and snaps rather than actual fabric.

It didn't make much difference. She didn't wear it for long. Jordan shimmied out of her slip dress and pulled on the rest. She adjusted the line of the G-string and sat down to wait for her cue.

She should have never made the mistake of calling Woody. She'd worked so hard to keep her tracks covered perfectly. She should have realized what he'd do.

Maybe on some level she did. Seeing her like this. Knowing what she had to become. It would make it easier for her to completely turn her back on her old life.

The day she woke up next to JD's dead body she _knew_ the Boston chapter of her life was over.

"Candy from a baby..." The voice brought her back.

The dancer who had just left the stage came into the dressing room, her hands full of wadded up singles. Jordan had to go. She looked at herself in the cracked mirror and saw Brandy staring back. With her razor-sharp, straight blonde hair and hazel green eyes, Jordan was sure her own father wouldn't recognize her walking down the street.

Woody waltzed in looking like just what he is...a cop. A cop there for her. He'd might as well have his badge tattooed on his forehead for how well he fit in there. He'd raise questions. Questions she couldn't afford at this juncture. Not when she was so close to having it all.

She closed her eyes, forcing herself to think only aboutthe moment.

It was time for her to pay the piper.


	3. Her and Them

Chapter 3: Her and...Them

The lights behind the stage flashed twice, letting Jordan know she needed to be on her mark. She double checked the adhesive of her eyelashes and adjusted the ankle strap of her shoes.

As she did every time she stepped on that stage, Jordan took a deep breath and reminded herself this was the price of gathering information. It didn't take her long to realize that she had to bury the liberal M.E. from Beantown deep down inside herself or she'd go crazy.

The spotlights dropped and Brandy struck a pose. Brandy didn't care about anything but the heady rush of capturing the attention of powerful man and the intimate caress of their cold, hard cash against her body. Brandy was only there for one reason and one reason only.

"Bring it on boys," she purred in a deep, seductive voice, rubbing her fingertips together in the universal sign of money...

* * *

From his spot across the room, Woody watched her crook her finger at the men who lined the edge of the stage. The smell of smoke, alcohol and his own cold sweat barely sunk in as Jordan began her slow sultry dance. It dawned on him one of his most dark, secret fantasies was coming to life.

And the thought made him sick.

He washed the shock back down with piss warm back wash at the bottom his beer glass and stared at a point where the stage curtain connected to the ceiling. He couldn't bring himself to watch her...and _them_.

The music wasn't loud, but he could still feel the beat rumble through the floor beneath his feet. He didn't need to see her with his eyes to watch her slender body turning to the rhythm. He didn't need to look to know she teased and taunted the men with that sorry excuse of an outfit she was wearing.

He did have to keep the image of long hair cascading over her newly bared shoulders as she spun around the pole out of his mind's eye.

No, he didn't need to look for himself. He had his own personal Dickie-freaking-V giving a vulgar play-by-play from the table next to him.

"Oh, what I wouldn't give to get my hands on that..." the drunk chuckled.

Woody cursed under his breath when the temptation became too much.

There she was. The only thing between her and the rest of the world was a leopard print G-string and the singles that were obscenely folded in its threads.

She leaned her head back, rubbing against the long brass dancer's pole like a lover; seemingly getting lost in the music as she twisted her arms out above her head.

He had to remind himself it was all an act. The fantasy was the real commodity a stripper was selling. If a guy wanted to just look at a pair of tits he could buy a magazine for a lot less trouble. Men came to clubs for the woman there to make them feel like a king and a place like The Chambers was in business to make a man feel like a god.

Jordan was making him feel like a...

Suddenly, thankfully, the music ended and the flashing lights dimmed to a single spot. He watched as she wrapped her leg around the dancer's pole one last time and circled it slowly, collecting the last minute favors of her appreciative audience. She granted them a few coy smiles while running her hands through her hair.

Jordan was able to the stage over to the next dancer. Normally, she did so quickly, but this time she stood there a second longer. Holding her hand to her brow as her eyes to help her eyes adjust to the din beyond the stage, she squinted through the nameless faces and the fog of smoke to the room beyond.

While she was Brandy, Jordan didn't let herself think that Woody was out there in the darkness watching her. She told herself he honored her wishes to leave her alone, even though she knew the odds of that happening were slim to none. She didn't need to search long. He was sitting right were she found him before.

The look on his face said it all.

Turning slowly, Jordan walked away, leaving a cool hundred in bills littering the stage and a handful of men lewdly offering to be the one she was looking for.

Like so many times since she woke up the morning of Lily's wedding day, Jordan doubted there was enough soap in the city to make her ever feel clean again.

* * *

The owner of The Chambers didn't like to pay his employees for a second they didn't work. Just like they were working at a factory somewhere, each and every girl clock in and out when she came in and or every break she took. He also took a percentage of the girls' tips. An agent's fee he called it. No one complained. There could be worse places to pry a trade.

After clocking out and paying her dues, Jordan double-checked to make sure the lounge was indeed empty. Woody was gone by her second number, and when he hadn't returned by her finale dance she had half convinced herself he was gone.

The Chambers did have a driver to take the dancers home after hours. Jordan didn't have a home. That night she had him drop her off at the train station where she kept a locker. After a quick change of clothes, Jordan stuffed her bleached hair under a black bob wig and went out the curb to hail a cab. Giving the driver the address Jordan leaned back in the seat and rubbed her smoke strained eyes.

There were thousands of rooms to rent in Washington. Jordan tried not to stay in one place more than a few days. She'd been in a motel just outside Andrews AFB for four. Too long. She had to move on. With Woody there was a necessity. If she traveled quickly she could be settled in a new hole before the sun came up. There wasn't much to pack up. Before the taxi-cab was even out of the parking lot, she had shouldered her hobo bag and was ready to go.

Jordan traced the outline of her gun through the fabric of her jacket pocket. It was the moments like this she felt the must vulnerable. One quick check out of the walleye and she saw she was already too late...


	4. Knowing Jordan's Tricks

Chapter 4: Knowing Jordan's Tricks

Dazed, Woody stumbled out of the club a few seconds after Jordan turned her back and walked off the stage. He hoped the fresh air would help him process what he had just witnessed.

The professional side of him could almost understand why she was there. How many times had he been part of a case where undercover officers worked the various clubs and stages around the city of Boston?

That kind of atmosphere attracted all kinds. A one-stop shop-of-vice if it where. How could this be any different? He didn't know much about Washington DC, but he could only assume that The Chambers location made it a favorite of the judicial district. That was why she was there. She was using the clientele to find out more about this Clarence Gordon...and from the sounds of Jordan's comments, Pollack spent some time there too.

On the other hand...

Woody scrubbed his hand down his face in effort to not punch it into the wall he was leaning against. He may not be the most strip club savvy man on the planet, but he had been to his fair share. She worked that room...and that stage...like a seasoned pro. The woman he thought he really knew was proving to more of a stranger than ever.

As much as he hated to admit it, Jordan was a safe as she could get inside those walls. He waited in his car for her to leave.

He knew her tricks. Following her was easy. But not _too_ easy. He smiled at her cleverness and knew he had to grab her quick. If she slipped out of his sight now, she might not make it so easy for him to find her again.

His was leaning against the door of his rental when she opened the door of her motel room. He gave her a two fingered wave and a grin. Jordan wasn't surprised. It was Woody. He wasn't about to leave her alone.

"Get in," he said like he was picking her up for a quick lunch on a busy workday afternoon.

Jordan gave her a look the comment deserved. "Why are you doing this?"

"You were the one who called me Jordan." he said opening the passenger-side door.

"Don't remind me."

Jordan didn't see much of a choice she climbed in and let him shut the door behind her. Woody didn't trust her easy compliance and put the car in drive before she could change her mind.

"Turn left at the light..." Jordan said matter-of-factly.

"Where are we going?" he asked making the turn.

"I heard there's a place by the bus station. You can drop me off on your way to the Beltway..."

"It sounds charming."

"They take cash, not names," she said sarcastically, patting her hand bag.

He knew she had a roll of bills in there. If he closed his eyes he could see most of them hanging off her hips. He made a U-turn.

"I don't think so." His tone was far from warm and accommodating.

"Then drop me off right here. I'll take the bus."

He was quiet for a beat. "I don't think so," he repeated.

Jordan noticed he was careful to follow the traffic laws even though at that hour of the morning they basically had the streets to themselves. He followed the signs to 95 and the rows of accommodations that catered to the millions of tourists that came to the city each and every year.

Silently, Woody watched hotel after hotel fly by. Each one dismissed for one reason or another. He may not be as practiced at being at hiding in plain sight as Jordan...but he had chased enough people who had.

He was aware of the white-knuckled grip she had on the door handle. He knew it had nothing to do with his driving. Even though he assured her he wouldn't, Jordan was waiting for him to turn her in. He pulled into the parking lot of a quiet hotel. Five stories facing a tree line...Just what he was looking for. He didn't stop the engine until he saw for himself that they were alone in the deserted lot.

"I don't want to fight with you Jordan," he said parking in a spot just passed the hotel's portico. "You just need to trust me."

For a full minute they stared at each other. Woody was ready for her to open the door and take off into the night while Jordan waited for Lu and her posse to knock on the window. Woody was the first to blink.

"I'll check in and find a side door..."

Jordan's smile was a combination of relief and amusement. She let go of the door handle. "You sound like you've snuck a few extra people into hotel rooms before."

His smile was tired, but genuine. "Maybe."

Jordan watched him walk into the lobby and scanned the parking lot for unmarked cars and loiterers. Nothing. She tried hard not to let her guard down. It would be so easy.

Out of habit, she slunk down in the seat of the car and took a few moments to count her nightly earnings. Five hundred. Not bad, but not good. If she hadn't had been so distracted it would have been better. She did hear that Judge Gordon had reserved his favorite table for the next night. He always brought his own security. That meant _he_ would be there. One more chance. Maybe it would be all she needed.

Woody registered and waited at the side door for Jordan. Her wig glowed blue in the street lights. Without the layers of makeup and tight clothes she looked more like Jordan. His Jordan. But still...

"Hey," he said as she slipped in the door. "Room 507," he added, handing her the key. "I'm sorry, it's a single."

Jordan nodded and palmed the key. It had been so longer since she had been in a place that her shoes didn't stick to the grime on the carpet that it didn't matter if she had to sleep on the floor.

Tired as she was, she didn't care. Four solid walls and a few moments of peace. Too bad she'd be long gone before she could enjoy it.


	5. Sleeping Until Christmas

Chapter 5: Sleeping until Christmas

Even though it was dark, Woody could tell the room was just what the concierge had promised. They were facing an open tree line, away for other tall buildings and the prying eyes or the parking lot and no balconies to climb down. He rolled his shoulders telling himself he could breathe a little easier. At least for a few hours.

Jordan wasn't that comfortable. She dropped her hobo bag on the bed, but didn't take her hand off the gun in her pocket. She had visions of a SWAT team storming the room at any second.

Woody didn't stand on ceremony. He kicked off his shoes, rubbed his scratchy red eyes and asked her if she wanted the bathroom first as he fell onto the bed.

Proving Pavlov's theory, Jordan's skin began to crawl with the feel of a hundred sweaty hands. Since she had been dancing at the club it was all she could do to get back to wherever she was staying and stand under a scolding shower until her skin began to boil. That night was no exception.

She looked longingly at the bathroom door but didn't move. She would have to take off her clothes. He'd be right outside a thin locked door, knowing she was naked...and remembering what she had done.

"Jo, are you alright," Woody asked.

The reality of her situation never failed to come up and bite her when she least expected it to. The last few weeks had take more than an emotional toll on her. There were prices to be paid for the information she needed. She'd seen things and done things that could change her forever if she let them. The old Jordan would have laughed these feelings all off. The new Jordan struggled with them every second of everyday.

With that she grabbed her bag. For a second Woody thought she was going to leave. Maybe she the same thing was going through her head. But with a small sigh she trudged into the bathroom and shut the door silently. Woody was left trying to figure out what had just happened.

A half hour later Jordan came out with her damp hair dripping in the collar of her clean shirt. The bed was turned down invitingly, the pillows fluffed; the lights dimmed and Woody was snoring softly...from a chair in front of the door.

He knew she'd try to leave. After tracking her earlier she shouldn't be surprised. The bed looked too tempting. How long had it been since she's slept in a bed she didn't have to wonder how clean the sheets were. It was all she could do not to climb between them and sleep until next Christmas. It was all she could do not to wake her sleeping body guard up and do whatever it took to forget...

The fantasy was dashed almost as soon as it surfaced. Even if The Chambers hadn't happened...and it did...there was Lu. Wide awake, Jordan opened the curtains and looked out on the predawn world that could be seen from her height. It felt safe enough to open the window.

"It's a five story drop straight down. I don't think you are even that crazy..." Woody voice was clear. He was about as "asleep" as she was.

"I just wanted some air," Jordan said. "It's been so long since..." Whatever she was going to say was changed in mid-stride. "Even highway exhaust smells fresh when it comes from an open window. Are you sure you don't want the bed?"

"I'm fine Jordan," Woody assured her from his spot.

Jordan listened to the light breeze going through the pines. She slipped her gun stealthy under the pillow before she climbed under the covers. Woody saw her actions but didn't say anything. He was almost relieved she was armed.

"Good night Jordan."

"'Night."

* * *

The next morning Jordan sat straight up in bed. The room was as dark as a tomb. The open window was now closed and the drapes drawn tightly against the daylight. She peered over the door to see Woody was no longer sprawled out in front of it. Was this it? Did he leave to make room for the police? Jordan scrambled out of bed and grabbed the handle of her bag. Before she could get out the door, Woody waltzed out of the bathroom rubbing his hair dry with a towel. 

"Morning. Or should I say 'Afternoon'. I think its close enough..."

Woody pointed to the clock on the night stand. It was indeed after twelve. She'd slept for over ten hours.

"You needed it..." Woody said as if to answer the question that was written all over her morning face.

Jordan looked around the room and noticed that while she was dead to the world, Woody had been busy. Two empty paper cups of coffee sat on the local section of the morning newspaper.

"There's a breakfast sandwich left. I don't know how good it is..." Woody pointed to the bag of take out on the empty chair. By the grease congealed on the sides of the bag it looked like his breakfast run happened hours before.

"You're up early." she mumbled. Instead of answering, Woody rubbed his neck. Jordan wondered how much, if any, sleep he did get.

She wasn't too far off base. Woody slept for a few minutes but couldn't let himself shutdown completely. He hadn't been able since this nightmare started. His body only turned off when it needed to be recharged. He spent his time constructively.

With her sleeping soundly not more then ten feet away he couldn't stop thinking about the case and what JD's murder had done to them all. Granted there was no love lost between the two men, but he didn't wish him dead.

Out of their lives forever maybe...but not dead.

The fall out had taken its toll. His relationship with Lu was history. Garret was sitting on a fence that would drive any man to drink. And he himself was one false move away from the penalty bench or worse...

His quick "vacation" had raised a few flags. Woody was forced to swallow his pride and call Cal for a favor. Cover. That was all he needed. If anyone asked Woody was spending some quality time with his estranged brother somewhere out in the sticks. Woody found himself, sleepless in Washington instead of his walk up in Boston. His original plan was to come in, get her, and go home where he knew she was safe. Only Jordan didn't seem like she wanted rescuing. While Jordan was dead to the world he started to do some investigating himself.

"Don't you think it's about time for you to tell me what's going on," Woody said leaning against the door.


	6. Stepping Over the Line

Chapter 7: Stepping Over the Line

His stance may have been casual but Jordan had no doubts he wouldn't let her leave the room without any answers. He didn't press last night, but now in the harsh light of day, she didn't think he'd be so obliging.

"So sue me. I called you prematurely," Jordan said stretching the sleep out of her back. As casual as she appeared there was an unmistakable bite to her words. "I sorry there is nothing to take back to your shrink, partner, girlfriend...whatever...to hang me with Wood. You made the trip for zilch."

Woody ignored the insinuation of her words. He was past that. Way past that. "Is that so?" Woody said waving the micro recorder in the air.

Woody couldn't help himself. Jordan called _him_. His career, and possibly his own freedom, was in jeopardy with him being there and all she did was act like he was out to get her. So he searched her bag while she was asleep. It proved to be interesting.

And more that a little disturbing.

In a moment of panic, Jordan searched the bag herself only to find the lining empty. Not only was the recorder gone...but her notebook as well.

"You don't have any right to..."

"I'm not here as a cop, remember...?"

"Give them back," she said reaching out. Woody just held the recorder over his head. She knew it was probably already too late. He had plenty of time to copy, download...and send, everything she had. It was just a matter of time before there was a knock on the door.

"You had this when you called me," he guessed. "So why are we still here Jordan?"

"I'm not done yet."

"Yes. You are."

"Not yet. Tonight...I'll have the rest. I can feel it."

"How?" His tone told her that he had read everything; heard _everything_...even between the lines...but was hoping beyond hope that his gut was wrong.

"I have my ways."

Woody swore. Jordan stepped back.

From the second he found out The Chambers was a strip club, Woody tried to tell himself that was all Jordan was doing. Working. A means to an end. It wasn't like _that_ was what she was.

He knew a few strippers. He was a cop. They were part of the territory. Eyes and ears. For most of the women it was a dead-end job just like any other. Just better money.

Most never stepped over the line. Ask any of them and they never said they wanted to grow-up and take their clothes off for money...but they had their reasons. Just like Jordan had hers now.

Only Jordan stepped over the line while hunting down her proof.

He snapped the notebook off the table and held it in her face. "Tell me I'm looking at this all wrong..."

Jordan could only bite back the tears.

"We're leaving right now."

Jordan winced. His voice lacked inflection. Whether with indifference or the effort to keep his disgust at bay. She didn't know which. She just knew that from that moment on he'll always look at her differently.

"I can't do that."

"Damn it Jordan! _THIS_!" he said coldly, tossing the book on the bed like it was poisonous, "...is enough for any good lawyer to get the charges dropped. It ends now."

Jordan bristled at his authoritative tone. "Just who the hell do you think you are telling me what to do?"

"The guy that is going to turn you in if you don't do as I say."

Jordan rolled her eyes. "And how are going to explain just... _stumbling_ on me in a hotel off the DC beltway. It's kind of off your beaten path so to speak..."

Jordan had him by the shorthairs and she knew it. The only way to make this work to her advantage was to bring her back to Boston personally and willingly. He stomped to the other side of the room in frustration.

"There's got to be another way..."

"Probably...but this way works," Jordan said matter-of-factly. She'd come to accept what she had to do for information and live with it.

"What exactly do you do?"

"Do you really want to ask me that question Woody?"

He swore again and this time Jordan held her ground.

"What I meant is, what do you expect to get by going..._there_."

"His _Honor_, Clarence Gordon. Plain and simple. He ordered the hit of JD because JD was getting too close to discovering a definitive tie between Gordon's bench and the securities fraud story he was working on. I want that link," she said, trying to keep her emotions flat. Her heart was beating so fast she was sure he could hear it over the rattle of the AC unit keeping up with their heated words.

"So you've added investigative reporter to your resume."

Woody made the word 'resume' sound like the sludge you scraped out of the bottom of a dumpster outside an all night diner. The corners Jordan's lips turn up in sarcasm. She didn't expect him to understand. Woody may think he's open-minded but Jordan has felt the brunt of his hypocrisy before. She thought she was immune to the disappointment.

But it still hurt to see the real man behind those blue eyes.

"I asked you to make sure Walcott would see me sometime before the actual opening arguments of my trial. That's it Woody. I never asked for you to come here and I sure as hell didn't ask for your opinion."

With that she turned heal and, with as much dignity as she could, walked into the bathroom and shut the door silently behind her. It was only when she raised a shaky hand to tuck a lock of her bleached hair behind her ear she noticed she was crying.

* * *

A frigid January of fishing floaters out of the Charles River had nothing to compare to how cold that hotel room became over the next few hours. Only the fact that Jordan brought up the point that their voices might carry through the walls was the only reason they weren't at each other's throats anymore.

By night fall Jordan complained of hunger and Woody was in desperate need of fresh air. He told her to stay put and she waited until he was out of the parking lot before she slipped out.

Jordan didn't harbor any doubts that Woody wouldn't follow her. She just hoped that when he did show up he wouldn't make a scene. She showed up for her shift at the club an hour early. She needed the time to get ready. If fate was smiling at her this would be the last time she needed to put herself through this.

* * *

Woody sighed at the empty hotel room. He wasn't surprised. On the contrary, he would have been shocked to still find her there. He would have also been empty handed. A burger and fries would have gone to waste. All Woody brought back to the room could be found in the refrigerator section of any corner convenience store. He tossed his keys on the dresser and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He purposely let her go and it ate him up inside.

He reminded himself that he gave up any rights he had to tell her what to do when he left his badge on his dresser in Boston...and when he turned his back in her not only once...but twice.

"_What in our past ever gave you the idea...'_

If he wanted to be honest with himself, he'd admit he let her go because he wasn't man enough to stop her. He was staying away because he wasn't man enough to come face-to-face what she was going to do.

Instead, he was going to hide behind his own guilt and a cold case of beer.

He popped the top of his first beer and looked at his watch. Quarter past ten. She should be there by now.

And he was standing there in the dark, his balls affectively cut off.

Woody flung the bottle at the wall and felt a tiny twinge of satisfaction as the liquid sprayed in all directions, dripping down the headboard and into the pillow that still held the indentation of Jordan's head.

Jordan's _blonde_ head.

_She goes by the name of Brandy_.

"Gordon or not, we fly out of here first thing tomorrow morning Jordan. Even if I have to cuff you to do it..."

* * *

Clarence Gordon may not be the man he claims to be, but he was honest about his fondness for The Chambers. He was just a visiting circuit court judge when he first step foot inside those polished brass doors. He'd been a member of high standing ever since. The perks of that membership only increased as his power in Washington did. One such bonus was reserving one of the best tables in the house with only a day's notice. It also was having the choice of the most captivating creatures the establishment had to offer to oblige him and his party exclusively.

He always had a thing for blondes. The younger the better; the brainless the better. He didn't care very much for the new one they called Brandy. Oh, she was accommodating enough. She had the grace of a true dancer and a body out of an adolescence's wet dream. She spoke eloquently, her wit was unmistakable, and she never over stepped the bounds of her position...

...but the way she looked at him.

Gordon was only too happy to share her company with his bodyguard. Santos was loyal. Gordon liked to reward that loyalty by letting him overlook his duties temporarily to enjoy some of the more intimate comforts that could be procured within the safety of The Chambers walls. Lately, those comforts have been coming exclusively from Brandy.

If it were anyone other then Santos, Gordon would be worried his protection was becoming too attached. Men got sloppy when they let their guards slip. He watched with guarded eyes as Brandy caressed her hand intimately over the ex-football player's body and whisper suggestively in his ear. He made a mental note to remind Santos about his the state of his loyalties when Brandy coyly told them to carry on without them and led his horny hired gun toward the back rooms.


	7. Uncharted Territories

Chapter 8: Uncharted Territories 

For Jordan the minutes ticked off like hours for the rest of her shift. She performed as she was paid too, not wanting to draw any undue attention.

She had him. Or she would the second she turned everything over to JD's editor. Sloppy. You can take the lawyer out of the office but you can't take the lawyer out of the bench. Gordon documented everything. He covered his bony ass even if it made it an easier target. JD was so close; one password away from a cyber-trail that tied Judge Gordon's office to millions in money laundering and a half a dozen Boston area murder cover-ups. Santos was just cocky, and drunk enough, to prove it to her by accessing Gordon's personal network with his Blackberry.

By midnight, Jordan found herself unconsciously scanning the crowd, looking for Woody. She didn't want to dwell on the fact he wasn't there. By one AM she went to her boss complaining of a stomachache. It wasn't too far from the truth. He made her promise to be just that much earlier tomorrow, but Jordan knew she'd either be watching the evening news saying that Gordon and his hired gun were behind bars or she herself would be sitting in jail beside them.

She wiped off her make-up and changed her clothes, leaving it all behind as she went out into the street to hail a cab.

* * *

Her knock was quiet. Woody sat on the bare mattress and stared at the door. He didn't need to have Superman's X-ray vision to know who it was. He wedged his beer bottle among the many empties on the crowded nightstand. 

He made it to the door by the second knock.

His greeting was just a quick once over, assuring himself she was still in one piece before letting his already overwrought imagination have a field day.

"Hey," she said softly. He made no move to step aside, so she continued. "I saw your rental was still here. I'm...sorry."

Woody rolled her eyes. Jordan may sound sincere but his drunken mind knew better. He made a nondescript grunt and moved aside just enough for her to slip through. She smelled like cigarettes, booze and..._them_. He smelled like spilt beer, cold sweat and something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Jordan noticed the bed had been striped bare, the linens carelessly tossed in the corner. She didn't know about the mess he made and wondered if it was because she had slept in them... and he couldn't bring himself to lay in her filth.

She ducked her head and murmured, "I'm going to take a shower and then we need to talk..."

He followed her, grabbing her arm before she could reach the doorway. "I think we need to _talk _right now."

She met his eyes, feeling near light headed. The stress of the last few weeks had nothing on the strain of the last twenty four hours. "You want to fight and I'm tired. Let me go."

He tightened his fingers instead. "What Jordan? You have the energy to go do God knows what to get Pollack's story, but you can't find the oomph to talk to me?"

She wrenched her arm free. "You want me to feel guilty for what I did. And how dare you make it sound as if I do. A good man died trying to get that information."

His eyes narrowed. "So we get to the real reason you did all this. It wasn't because you wanted to save you're happy ass...although that was a nice side bennie...No. It was all for the late, great JD Pollack's legacy. His precious story. Was he that good of a fuck Jordan? Was he that good to make you forget how he _screwed_ you outside of the sheets too? How he used us all..."

She cut him off. Fragile as she was, rage exploded in her. She lashed out. Her fists flying at his chest. "How dare you! How dare you say anything about the way I live my life? He was there for me. He was there when I needed y..."

Jordan bit back her words. She swung away from him, wrapping her arms around herself, struggling for control. They were losing sight of the original argument, and its wake old wounds began to fester...threatening to ooze out. They were in uncharted territories. What they were doing was not only wrong...it was dangerous. They had to get control of themselves and their emotions now...before they did something they would regret forever. Something they'd both hate.

"We can't do this." Jordan moved away from him, and then faced him again. "I...I can't go there with..."

It was his turn to cut her off. "It's always about _YOU_! Do you have any idea how much damage you left Jordan! Did it ever cross your mind to ask me about the people you call your friends?"

He advanced on her; she saw he was shaking with rage and pain. "Do you ever once think to ask about Lily? Not an _hour_ went by were she didn't ask me if I heard anything about you. Garret has been jumping though hoops to keep your disappearance below the radar and Nigel has been working day and night to keep one step ahead of the investigators your case."

A mirthless laugh escaped his lips. "And me? I destroyed probably one of the most honest things that'll ever happen to me because I can't keep my objectivity when it comes to you."

He bent his face close to hers. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. "You've lived your life wiping your feet on the people who love you the most and all for what? So you can finish what your little Aussie boyfriend started."

Woody wanted blood. She saw it in his eyes. He wanted her to crack...to break down or fly into a million pieces. He wanted to punish her.

She wouldn't give him the pleasure. She wasn't about to fall apart and back off. She met his gaze evenly, even though she was shaking badly. "Don't talk to me like that. Don't you dare cheapen what JD and I meant to each other," she said pointing her finger into his chest.

"Cheapen?" He snorted, grabbing her hand, closing his own in a fist around it. "I have to give the bastard some credit. At least he didn't _suck off_ God knows who for his information".

"You son of a bitch!" She brought up her other hand to his chest, curling her fingers into his T-shirt, wanting to slap him so badly that she shook with it. "You don't understand because you don't want to..."

"Are you so sure?" he caught her other hand locking her to him. "Maybe it's because I _do_ know you Jordan. JD Pollack was lucky son of a bitch. It didn't take him four years to see the real you. You're a cold, conniving bitch, sweetheart, totally incapable of loving anyone or any..."

"Stop it!" She yanked her hands free. But he didn't stop. He kept on pushing, egging, the smell of blood was in the air.

With a howl of rage she lunged at him, taking him by surprise. "You were the one that told me to go screw myself when I opened myself up to you. But you are too angry and self-centered to see that it was a first for me!" She caught the side of his jaw with her fist. "I DID love you, you little prick."

He grinned, sarcastically. "Never use the words 'little' and 'prick' in the same sentence when you are talking to a man." He effortlessly he caught her hand, than the other. "Admit it; you never loved anyone other than Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh."

"I did! I loved him...and I loved you. I was hurt too!" She tried to wrench herself free but unbalanced him instead. Tangled together, they hit the edge of the mattress, and then tumbled onto the floor. The hit was hard. It knocked the breath out of her.

He rolled on top of her, pinning her underneath him, locking her arms over her head. "You're lying. You never loved me. You said it only because you thought I was going to die. Then you _used_ my feelings for you to conveniently get rid of Pollack when he started to get too close."

There was more truth in that statement then she wanted to admit. Unconsciously maybe, she did set out to use him. JD was getting too close and Woody was handy.

But somewhere in the darkness of that snowy winter night she discovered what she was doing had nothing to do with JD and everything to do with the way she felt about the man she was with.

"It wasn't like that Woody. Honestly..." The fight was gone out of her. She began to cry. "In the end I lost you both. I have nobody Woody. Not really. Not the way I need."

"You had me." He tightened his hands over her, his grip punishing. "But that was never enough. I was only good for a law-bending favor. Maybe to bail your ass out of trouble...But I was never good enough for you."

She shook her head. "Please don't say tha..."

She didn't finish. Woody's mouth caught hers, her words and her tears. She felt his anger, his frustration...his confusion. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and ground his pelvis into hers. It was meant to punish her, wanting her to pay for the last two months...hell, the last five years. He wanted her to pay for how she's hurt him.

Abruptly, he released her, shifting his weight so he was no longer keeping her pinned. He was utterly disgusted with himself.

Instead of getting away Jordan used his withdrawal to anchor him to her. She brought her hands up to his hair and wrapped her legs around his.

With a sudden burst of realization, she knew she wanted him. And it had nothing to do with the act of making love. Nothing to do with sharing, or intimacy, or even romance. And above all it had nothing to do with **love** itself. She wanted him to take her fast and hard, to be inside her...to make her forget. To literally screw her brains out.

And God help her, she wanted to do the same to him.

Muttering an oath he ended the kiss and broke away from her, breathing like he had just run a marathon. "Jordan...Christ..I'm...

"No," she tightened her fingers in his hair and dragged his mouth back to hers. "No," she said again, catching his mouth, his tongue, desperate and hungry. So hungry she thought she'd die from it.

She clawed at him, at his clothes. He clawed at her. Button's flew, seams gave, and in frustration undergarments were kicked away. Naked, they came together. As he thrust into her she cried out. But not in pain. No, far from it.

Their movements were raw. It was rough and ugly. They didn't waste time kissing or stroking. There were no whispered words of affection or even pleasure. Only grunts of self-satisfaction. Their joining represented the culmination of a year of misunderstanding and longing. Without uttering a word, they told each other everything they had been speaking and feeling.

And some of what they had to say hurt.

Immediately afterward, she rolled onto her side, not wanting to see his expression, the look in those blue eyes. What had begun in anger had twisted into an ugly kind of passion that could only end serious regrets. She drew her knees to her chest ashamed and embarrassed. She behaved like the kind of woman he had just accused her of being. And truth be known, the kind of woman she had to be the last few weeks. Jordan squeezed her eyes shut, aching in a way she never had before.


	8. One Apology Too Many

Chapter 9: One Apology Too Many

He stirred beside her. Jordan felt him swear silently. "I'm sorry."

The regret in his voice was real. "Don't," she said, her voice thick. "Don't apologize."

"Why not? I was like some kind of freaking Joh..." He bit back another curse. "I've never...acted that way before."

"You tried to stop it. But I...I was the one who..." She couldn't say it. Embarrassed, she rolled on her back and threw her arm over her eyes. "I'm the one who should be apologizing."

He said nothing. One moment turned into a handful. She didn't dare look at him knowing she'd see herself looking less than human in his eyes. "I'm sorry Jordan...really sorry," he said, finally.

She moved her arm, her cheeks burning. "You already apologized. Accepted. Okay? Let's just stop...now."

She made a move to get up. He caught her arm, but gently this time. "You're misunderstanding what I'm trying to say. The first apology; that was for...the act. This one's for before. For the things I said. I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of them."

She smiled sadly. Yes he did, he meant every word he said. Just like she did. Jordan looked away quickly. "Forget about it."

"No." The statement was pure and simple. It was also soft. There was no anger, no condemnation...or regret in his voice. And the way he looked at her. It was like he used to. When they were friends.

"Earlier, you said I could never understand. I want to Jordan..."

He touched her, absently, trailing his fingers, lightly, back and forth along the outside of her thigh. She suspected he didn't even realize he was doing it. She should point it out. Jordan swore when she left her life as Brandy behind a man would have to ask permission to even shake her hand.

She really should say something. But then he'd stop.

"...Tell me why you it was so important for you to finish what Pollack started instead of letting Gordon's lies catch up with him."

Jordan didn't know if she even understood herself. She couldn't help but think...What If I loved JD more? Then maybe the first time he heard the name "Clarence Gordon" it would have been in someone else's by-line. Jordan would always remember that it was because of her that he was here. He came to Washington to get away from _her_.

_I'm the reason he's dead._

"Simple. I owed him at least that much." She looked him in the eye. "You should be able to understand that?"

Jordan watched him struggle to accept what she was saying. He gave her a bittersweet smile and removed his hand from her.

She had her answer.

Jordan had a feeling they were both going to end up paying a terrible, awful price...she for living behind her walls so long and Woody for his inflexibility.

"I guess I know where you still stand." she said sharply.

"If you are trying to pick another fight with me, think again." He propped himself up on an elbow and leaned his face over hers "Don't try take your regrets on me Jordan. Trust me; I have enough of my own to deal with right now."

Jordan sat up, forcing him to move aside. "I need to take a shower," she said with more than a touch of bitterness.

"By all means," he said, his jaw set. "Take what you want. ...You always do."

Jordan rolled to her feet. She walked to the bathroom door ignoring the sharp tenderness between her legs.

She stopped and turned. He hadn't moved a muscle. Woody was still sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by the scattered debris of their fight. The words just slipped out, her voice was low and full melancholy. "I think I hate you."

Woody just stared blindly at the ceiling. She wondered if he heard her...hoping that he didn't.

But he did. He couldn't argue with her. At that moment he didn't like himself very much either. The bathroom door quietly clicked shut. For a moment he still said nothing. Then he blinked, hard, and whispered, "...God help me, but I still love you."

_

* * *

Two Weeks Later-- _

Jordan looked at herself in the rearview mirror. It had been a long day and her eyeliner had smeared giving her a gaunt look that had nothing to do with her weight. She had used a heavy hand with it that morning. A left-over from her days as Brandy.

Even after a trip to the hairdresser's to get back her dark hair, she couldn't quite shake the habits her life on run had created. She used to think women like Brandy wore heavy makeup because the men they entertained liked them to look cheap. It was all part of the thrill. It didn't take her long to see that most of the woman liked to wear it, but not for the same reason. It was like a security blanket, a mask to hide behind when they didn't have the option to hide in their clothes. Jordan felt like she needed more than her clothes to hide behind when they got back to Boston.

She rolled down the window of her El Camino and edged the speedometer up to keep up with the traffic on the Mass-Turnpike. Her old Camino wasn't much the worst-for-wear after spending two months in a police impound lot. Four missing hubcaps and a cracked rear window was all it had to show for it. Woody insisted she file a claim. She assured him it wasn't necessary. In the end, he filled out the paperwork for her and she grudgingly signed it.

That was the way it had been since the morning they landed in Logan. Woody was physically by her side for every step of the chaos, running interference when she needed it. From the little side trip they took to The Globe, to deliver the final piece of JD's story, before going to see Renee...to that morning's meeting with Garret...and everything in between.

She was even there to witness the heated discussion he had with Lu Simmons about the status of her revoked bail and pending charges...not to mention his lies about his 'vacation' with Cal. Jordan felt a kick of guilt knowing she was a large part of the blame for the obvious undertones in the room.

He was there by her side when the story broke about The Honorable Clarence Gordon dieing from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. He was just as disgusted as she was when it was reported that the death was ruled an accident, claiming Gordon was cleaning his weapon when it discharged.

...And he was there when she was reunited with her friends, reassuring her that absolutely no one needed to know about Brandy or her life at The Chambers.

They had established an unspoken truce from the second she came out of that bathroom, that night, and found Woody fully dressed and telling her he had them booked on the next flight out.

Two weeks passed and Jordan began bristled at his cool professionalism of his support.

He was hurt, she was hurt, and the specter of what took place in that hotel room hung over them. Yet, neither was willing to bring the subject up in fear of making the chasm between them worse than it already was. Lily saw it. She chalked it up to stress. Garret didn't know what was up, but he did know that Jordan would be next to worthless at work until she had time to decompress.

He offered her a leave of absence. He told her to concentrate on getting through Santos' trial and getting her life back. He recommended she see Howard as soon as possible. Jordan didn't have the heart to tell him she didn't know if she wanted her life back. She accepted his offer only to keep the peace...but had already made arrangements to end her apartment lease and find a place to store her belongings while she mulled over her options.

Right now, the only choice she cared about was whether to head north on I-91 or wait until she hit the state-line.

* * *

Woody turned down the radio as he pulled into the dark, rest area. At the early morning hour Jordan's El Camino wasn't hard to find. He saw the bed was loaded down with a few boxes and bags, and he knew his gut was right. 

When Jordan's bail was set the department arranged to have lojack installed on her car. She had a reputation that made bounty hunters rub their hands together with greed. When she took off without it, the Camino was simply towed away. The paperwork to remove the electronics was "lost". When he didn't see her parked out in front of her building earlier, he made handy use of it.

He felt a split second of panic when he saw she slumped over on the bench seat, but quickly realized she was probably just catching a few minutes of sleep. Lucky him. With a little smirk, he put one hand on his hip and tapped on the window with the other.


	9. The Postpartum of Infatuation

Chapter 10: The Postpartum of Infatuation

Jordan was dimly aware of the car pulling into the parking lot. It was a rest area off a busy highway. No matter the hour there would be people pulling in and out. She didn't bother opening her eyes until the knock on the window scared her half out of her skin. The first thing she saw was a BPD badge, firearm and the top half of a pair of faded jeans. She'd know that...gun anywhere. She heaved a sigh and buried her own gun further into the folds of her jacket.

How did he know where to find her...and how did he do it so fast? The answer came to her almost immediately. They must have installed a tracking device on her car.

Sitting up she rolled the window down. "Is there a problem officer?" she quipped.

"Cute." He leaned down to get a better look at her. "What are you doing Jordan?"

"Taking a vacation. Somewhere warm."

"You're two hours from the Canadian border."

"It's July. It's warm in Canada...in July anyway."

Woody had a nondescript sound and then said, "And how long are you planning on this _vacation_ to take?"

"You know me," she grinned. "I'm not big on the definite planning thing."

"Jordan, you're scheduled to appear in front of the grand jury in about six hours."

"Oh...that," she said shifting in her seat. "Yeah, well...I was hoping my statement would be enough."

"For you maybe. The charges against you have been dropped. But there is Santos to consider. You're testimony is going to guarantee he gets him life."

"The real killer here is already paying his paying his price," Jordan said referring to the late Judge Gordon. "He'll...he'll still being going away for a long time whether I'm there or not."

Woody's lips thinned at the way Jordan referred to Santos. Jordan may have told him over and over that the things she had to do to survive in D.C. didn't affect her...but it was obvious to even the most casual observer that she was profoundly shaken. When he spoke again Woody concentrated on keeping his voice calm.

"Walcott'll have a better chance if you're there."

"Yeah, well," Jordan said thumbing the ignition with her keys. "Such as life."

Woody put his hand on the door frame. "I can have you arrested as a hostile witness."

Jordan called his bluff. "We're in Vermont, detective."

Woody wasn't about to have her arrested even if he could, but he wasn't about to be put off either. "Give me a few and I think I can flag down a state trooper."

Jordan's grin faltered. She recognized his tone. That badger-on-curry thing she never understood, but took as an analogy to mean 'Woody-acting-pig-headed again'. Suffice to say, he wasn't just going to let her drive away.

"Why doesn't that surprise me," Jordan snorted.

"I would think after...everything you'd want him to fry."

"Are we talking about JD here, or something else? I hate to break this to you Woody, but nobody held a gun to my head to sleep with him."

Woody's grip on the door frame tighten. It was the only outward sign that Jordan's cavalier statement was beginning to undermine the emotionally detached attitude he was trying so hard to keep. It was the only way he could keep from wanting to ring her neck in one minute and to hide her away somewhere further than Canada the next.

When Jordan said she hated him Woody know she was just striking out in pain. And after what they had just done, Woody was the most likely target. Deservingly so. He had to admit it hurt, but not as much as it hurt realizing he loved her. Really loved her. And when it came to Jordan those feelings left him entirely too vulnerable for his own good.

For the last few months he tried to compartmentalize his other feelings for her...a postpartum as it were. The best word he could come up with was _infatuation._

When he stepped foot in Boston, she blew into his life like something he'd never seen before. She was like a ride in an amusement park. There were ups and downs and points where he felt on edge of out of control giving him the tingle of real danger in his gut. A dream woman. He was immediately drawn to her like any man would be. Soon, their acquaintance blossomed into friendship, but that "hot damn" factor was always there.

Like the desire to tame a wild river or master the unknown, Woody felt that masculine need to change her. He wanted to be the guy to save her from herself. Unfortunately, saving her meant for her to lose a little of that independence that attracted him in the first place.

The day he was shot she came to him. For Woody her declaration came a few hours too late. Even then he knew that the relationship they had would always be conditional. Conditional or not Jordan would feel it was her duty to stick with him. The vibrancy that attracted him to her in the first place would have shriveled up and died. They'd end up hating each other with regrets. Martyrdom wouldn't fit well on either of them.

His physical wounds healed; she moved on; and the night at the Lucy Carver Inn happened. For one brief moment, he let himself naively believe that the snow would never melt. That the hands of fate would make all their issues go away.

He didn't plan on the sun coming up the next morning. Nor did he plan on Pollack buying an engagement ring.

A man doesn't buy a diamond ring useless he doesn't think he'll be shot down.Pollack didn't know Jordan. But in the end Woody didn't know her all that well either. Woody was confused...he felt used and he felt like the kind of scum most men worry about when they are in love with a conundrum like Jordan.

Pollack for all his faults had stepped up to the plate were Woody just dragged his feet. Why? Because maybe Woody never really got past that "hot damn" to love the real woman inside.

Lu just...happened. But it was a good thing.

What he saw was what he got with Lu. She didn't need to hide behind her issues and above all was there for him when he was trying to make sense of Jordan's duplicity and the end of her relationship with Pollack.

Lu was easy to be with. He hadn't had _fun_ in a long time. He was moving on with his life and for the first time in a long time he looked forward to the future. He tried to love her. He wanted to. She was everything he wanted in a woman: smart, understanding of his career, sexy as hell. If they were any place other than Boston it may have worked. Lu wanted him to bury the remains of his feelings for Jordan. Woody hated JD for getting himself killed and he hated Jordan for being able to pull his chain. He couldn't let go.

Helping Jordan escape, and eventually tracking her down in Washington, made him reexamine his feelings again.

He stopped making excuses to himself about everything Jordan did...The way she used people, or twisted that grey line of right and wrong to her advantage. He accepted the level of her trust would anyways be dependent on her circumstances and most of all he saw that he wasn't as lily-white as he thought he was.

Woody wasn't proud of the way he came to some of his conclusions. He'd never be. In the wake of that fight, he saw that that his infatuation was gone. In its wake, were feelings that were both comforting in how crystal-clear they were...as much as they were a burden.

Like it or not he was stuck.

That was why he was standing under a street lamp getting tore up by mosquitoes while Jordan tried to figure out a way out of having to live with the consequences of her own actions.

"Maybe not a gun literally," he finally said. "But are you willing to let some lawyer get the case thrown out because of a technicality?"

Jordan gave him an awkward smile. "I've already let my place go.."

"You can stay with me."

"Woody, I don't think that's such a good idea..."

Woody put both hands on his hips. "If you are worried at the sleeping accommodations don't. I _can_ control myself. The sofa will be fine. Sex is not needed, wanted or desired."

A statement he said in hopes of only putting her mind at easy had the total opposite effect. Jordan opened her mouth to say something but closed it rolling her lips in an embarrassed grin.

Assuming the look on her face had everything to do with sitting across a courtroom with her molester and nothing to do with his backfiring chivalry; Woody reached in to unlock her door and opened it. Kneeling down to be face to face with her he touched her for the first time in two weeks.

Warm finger tips cupped her chin. At least they felt warm to Jordan. The idea of going back to Boston and facing JD's killer left her cold.

Jordan set out to find JD's murderer and knew she'd do what ever it took to bring him to justice. She thought she could handle Brandy. She was Jordan Cavanaugh after all; more than a little unhinged, put her self out there more often then any sane person would and lived to laugh about it.

But that was before she had people that cared about her. More to the fact, people _she_ _cared about_ caring about her.

Both Woody and Walcott told her that the circumstances of her involvement in making the case against Santos would be legally irrelevant. Jordan knew better. She knew the second she stepped into that witness box every detail would come out. It was bad enough to have Woody think of her like he did...but facing the same condemnation from the people that meant anything to her...

Woody forced her gaze to his. "It's going to be okay." He stared deep into her eyes and for the next few moments, she actually believed him.

She nodded.


	10. Relevance

_AN: I need to go on record here to thank NCCJFAN for her guidance through out this. I've been spoiled by having her (and the other Nina heads) as a writing partner(s) and it's intimidating to venture out on my own sometimes. Thanky, thanky, my dear._

* * *

Chapter 11: Relevance 

They made it back to Boston with little over an hour to spare. Settling Jordan in his apartment would have to wait until later. They orchestrated a quick round of showers and made it to the courthouse just as the gallery was being seated.

It was a closed hearing. The press was barred. Only a handful of observers were allowed in. Woody made sure he was one of them. He was sitting by Jordan's side when Santos was led into the room.

The question remained unvoiced but both Jordan and Woody were thinking the same thing. In a normal grand jury hearing the defendant and his representation were not present. The proceedings were engineered for the prosecution to present their case to a panel of jurors, not as a trial, but to decide whether there exists reasonable doubt or probable cause.

Renee shot them a look that said her hands were tied. Unconsciously, Jordan reached for Woody's hand. He was only to willing to wrap his fingers around hers and whisper in her ear the same reassuring words he told her in the rest area parking lot...even if he wasn't as confident.

The courtroom was called to order, the legalities read and the judge and jury seated. Jordan's name was the first to be called. Woody gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before he let her go. Jordan smoothed her damp hands nervously down the front of her skirt and stiffly walked past Santos to the witness box.

It was far from the first occasion Jordan had faced Renee Walcott in a court room. Other times she could fall back on her role as an expert witness, not in this case. This time she was on her own. In a role she wasn't as familiar with. Jordan took a deep breath as the bailiff approached. Raising her right hand, Jordan was sworn in. Renee stepped forward.

"Dr. Cavanaugh...Good morning."

* * *

Renee's questions were right to the point. The same questions she asked in her office. Jordan gave her initial testimony. Straight forward: No more, no less. 

"Thank you Dr. Cavanaugh." Renee gave Jordan a reassuring nod before she turned the questioning over to Santos' attorney.

"Miss Cavanaugh..." he said casually tucking his tie inside the lapel of his suit coat. His tone, careless, to the point of being arrogant.

"I understand you are familiar with the proceedings of a grand jury."

"Relevance, Your Honor," Renee injected. She had a very good feeling what was ahead and wanted to stem it off as soon as possible.

The attorney held his hand up "I assure you it does, Your Honor."

"Proceed."

Walcott took her seat.

"It's a matter of public record that you once held the position in the State Medical Examiners office...is that true Miss Cavanaugh?"

"Yes," she said meeting his eye. Jordan was so intent on getting through this that she didn't notice the door to the courtroom silently open and close again.

"Is it true that you are on administrative leave in connection with the same crimes my client is being suspected in."

"...I'm on a leave of absence," Jordan said in her own defense.

"Semantics," he said with a dismissing wave of the hand. "Is it true that you were arrested and subsequently charged with the crimes in question?"

"Objection, Your Honor!" Walcott sprang back up. "All charges against Dr. Cavanaugh have been dropped. She has been cleared of any wrong doing."

"I'm establishing creditability Your Honor."

"Sustained," the judge droned. "Please continue, but keep your questions relevant sir."

"Yes, your Honor. Miss Cavanaugh...in your testimony you stated that you traveled to Washington D.C. to personally investigate the murders of John Douglas Pollack, and one Lance Cooke. Is that correct?"

Jordan twisted her hands in her lap. "Yes."

"Is it also true that you started this investigation without authority?"

Jordan opened her mouth to say something but she was cut off in mid-breath by Renee.

"We have already established that Dr. Cavanaugh was residing out-of-state on a revoked bail. In lieu if the situation, the District Attorney's Office has chosen not to press charges. I want to go on record reminding this jury that Dr. Cavanaugh is not the subject of this hearing..."

The judge held up his hand. Renee stopped. "You are coming dangerously close to wasting this court's time Mr. Knox. Please make your point."

"Let's not beat around the bush anymore, Miss Cavanaugh. Is it true that you taped my client's so-called _confession_ without his knowledge?"

Uncharacteristically, Jordan looked at Renee for guidance. The DA's nod was barely discernible.

"Yes, that is true."

"Is it also true that you that you did so while conducting a crime punishable as a misdemeanor in 48 of 50 States...oh, and the District of Colombia also?"

"Irrelevant, your Honor! Dr. Cavanaugh's alleged activities are not in question here."

"This is very relevant," Knox piped in. "My client was pried with alcohol and then propositioned by the witness in an act of criminal solicitation. Is this not the fact, Miss Cavanaugh?"

Jordan sat there. It was happening. For the first time since he stepped foot in the courtroom, Jordan looked at Santos. His smirk made her skin crawl.

"Answer the question Dr. Cavanaugh," the judge said.

"Let me rephrase it your Honor," Knox said, his chest puffed out with his posturing. "Miss Cavanaugh is it true that you had sexual contact with men for money? And during a number of such encounters with my client, you coerced him in to confessing to the _same_ murders you were being charged with?"

Before Renee could object, Jordan bit out her answer venomously. "He killed them. The...executions were ordered by his boss. Marcus Santos put a gun to JD's head an pulled the trigger after he drugged me and set me to take the fall. All because JD was coming too close to uncovering Gordon's business relationship with the mob."

Jordan's outburst had little or no affect on the defending attorney. In fact, he gave her a little smile that said 'thank you' for making his job that much easier.

"At this conjuncture I would like to call for any and all charges against my client to be dropped due to the lack of integrity of my client's alleged confession not to mention the witness's own creditability. In an act of good faith we are willing to plead guilty to the misdemeanor charge of patronizing a known prostitute."

"Your Honor!"

Renee's rebuttal barely registered. Like the night she looked out into that dark, smoky lounge and found Woody looking at her with a look of shock and disillusionment, Jordan looked across the courtroom to see Lily and Garret, tucked in the back row...their reactions eerily similar.

* * *

Woody opened his eyes. He was instantly awake. 

That sound. It came again. The one that woke him up.

She was crying. The sound was thick, as if she was trying to muffle it. No doubt, she'd think of those tears as a sign of weakness. She would hate it that he heard her. He closed his eyes and tried to block out sound.

He couldn't.

She sounded so lost and hopeless. No doubt she'd take it as some kind of threat if he went in and checked on her. She'd hate that he heard her.

He rolled over on the all too narrow sofa and looked at the LED display in his microwave.

2:13...AM.

It seems like an eternity since they walked out of that court room. Actually it was just over thirty-six hours ago. And he still couldn't make sense out of what happened next.

He understood when Renee tried to reassure Jordan that they weren't done. The case may have hit a roadblock but she wasn't ready to give up. Far from it. Santos would walk for now, but not for long. What he couldn't comprehend was Jordan's reaction to Garret and Lily.

He had to admit he wasn't surprised when they slipped in the door just as the proceedings started. It wasn't as if the hearing schedule was a secret. Still, Jordan asked them to stay away. It was all Woody could do to convince her _he_ should be there.

Still, her response was uncalled for.

"_What are you doing here?"_

"_We came to support you Jordan." _

Lily's voice was profound in its sincerity. He could only assume Jordan thought it sounded like something else.

"_Thanks but no thanks. Did you get a good show? How many times did you tell me I'd ended up getting in over my head Garret? What was it you used to quote?_ '_Sooner or later everyone sits down to a banquet of consequences'? I'm sure there is an 'I-told-you-so' sitting right on the tip of your tongue." _

To Garret's good common sense, he held any comment he wanted to make. Woody was impressed enough to make note.

"_Jordan, you heard Renee. It's not over..." _

"_For me it is. I fucked up...literally...and I have to pay the cost." _

Lily reached out to her, but Jordan pushed past them and down the hallway. Woody was left making a quick apology before following her. By the time they get to his car, Woody knew she needed some time to come to grips with what transpired and he gave her some breathing room.

They returned to the apartment and Jordan simply stated she wanted to get some sleep and shut herself in the bedroom. That was over a day ago.

The few minutes she would venture out she was sullen. If she spoke it was only because it was necessary. When he asked her if she wanted to talk to someone...on the outside...like Dr. Stiles. She only shook her head.

Lily called a number of times and stopped by once. Jordan steadfastly refused to talk to her. Lily told him she understood. That after all Jordan had been forced to endure she couldn't take what she said or did personally. Woody wondered where Lily's calm voice of wisdom was when he was sitting in a trashed hotel room with his imagination eating him alive, waiting for Jordan to come back from that final night at the club.

Lily left flowers. The last time Woody had flowers in his apartment was after he was hospitalized. He took them as a show of pity...just like Jordan did these. He was understanding and left them on the kitchen counter.

The muffled sobs gave way to the springs of his bed creaking as she restlessly tossed and turned. Woody rolled on to his back and threw his arm over his head. He wanted to reach out to her. He jumped when the door opened.

"I...I, ah, didn't mean to wake you." Her voice was harsh, like she had been crying for much longer that he heard.

He swung his legs around to the floor and sat up. "No problem, I was awake anyway."

Jordan rocked back and forth on her heals. She didn't know why she was out there...but she knew if she spent one more minute alone in that bed she'd go crazy.

Woody studied her for a full minute before he spoke. When he did, he had to clear his throat to keep his tone neutral. "Are you alright? Do you need me to turn up the AC?"

"No, I'm fine." She wrapped her arms around her waist.

In the dim light he could see she was wearing an oversized t-shirt and not much else.

"I'm sorry. Go back to sleep Woody."

She was about as fine as his five and dime china. She needed something. Maybe for him to reach out to her. Give her some reassurance she'd been sadly lacking lately. He wasn't Garret. He wasn't her father. He was the man that loved her and never seemed to have the ability to find the perfect words that could make everything go away.

"Are you hungry?"

Jordan stood in the doorway, rubbing her big toe over the edge of where the carpeting in the bedroom started and the hardwoods of the living room ended. She hasn't hungry. She just needed company. Dare she say...support. Even if that support came in the form of a refrigerator raiding buddy.

"...sure."

Woody rearranged the sheet around his waist and pointed his thumb back at the kitchen table. "Meet me in two minutes."


	11. Hold On Loosely

Chapter 11: Hold On Loosely, But Don't Let Go.

Jordan disappeared back into the bedroom. Two minutes later, on the dot, she reappeared was wearing a short robe made out of some kind of silky material. That, added with her freshly washed face and bed-tangled hair, gave her a soft feminine look that no fashion designer and super model could ever hope to reproduce. The effect was not lost on Woody. He searched his mind, trying to remember if he'd ever seen her look more beautiful. He came up empty. He gave her a soft smile, he held out a chair in effort to stop staring.

Woody's stare was not lost on her. It was almost after two in the morning. They were alone in his tiny kitchen. She sat down wondering if she should have put some clothes on and found the energy to comb her hair. She had the uncharacteristic need to blush. Blushing was childish and embarrassing. She would not blush.

"Cereal all right?" he asked rummaging through the cupboard. The peachy-pink color of her robe brought out the color in her skin. He wondered if it was proper to make a comment about the color of a bathrobe...or would she think he was coming on to her.

_Food, right_. "Sure," she said, clearing her throat. "What do you have?"

"Cheerios," Woody said reaching for his stash. "And some seriously doubtful granola," he added opening the top of the box in question.

The look on his face suggested that she should pick the sure thing. It was enough to make her forget her embarrassment. "I would have pictured you as more of a Fruit Loops kinda guy."

"They weren't on sale this week."

"I'll stick with the O's. Whole milk or skim?"

"2 percent."

"That works."

Making herself useful, Jordan poured the cereal into a pair of bowls while Woody fetched the milk out of the refrigerator. She arched an eyebrow as he covertly double checked the expiration date. It must be fine because he let out a little sigh of relief and pulled a couple glasses out of the drainer by the sink. He set down across from her brandishing a bowl of sugar and two spoons.

"Thanks."

They ate in silence. Woody wanted to give her time to decide if she wanted to talk or just take care of a case of late night munchies along with their impromptu pajama party. He watched her carefully. He noticed every time her eyes drifted over to the flowers Lily had dropped off.

"They're pretty. She really cares about you."

Jordan finished her milk.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked as his spoon hit the bottom of the bowl.

"Not really." She picked up the cereal box and asked. "Seconds?"

Woody grinned in defeat. He was reminded of a classic rock song that, while having a killer guitar riff in the middle, was not high on his must-listen list. It was one of those love-gone-wrong songs set to a pseudo-disco beat that stick in your head like a migraine. He never gave the lyrics much of a thought until he heard it on the car radio last week. The song talked about it being so easy to be overprotective when you're in love. To love her too much.

_If you cling too tightly, you're gonna lose control._

He'd been there done that, and ended up finding some _thing_ inside him that was as scary as hell. He needed to give her space...not press, for both their sakes.

Still, he had the advantage. She was sleeping in his bed. Alone. But she was safe and sound only a few feet away. _Hold on loosely, but don't let go._

He held out his bowl and let her fill it. "All we need is a couple of beers."

Jordan cocked her head.

"Cereal and beer," Woody grinned devilishly. "The breakfast, lunch and dinner of champions. It was one of those self-indulgent things that got me through community college while trying to keep Cal and I above water."

Jordan paused as if she was mulling the thought of Woody and his brother living on a steady diet of sugar and alcohol. "Scotch and chocolate cake."

"What?" Woody asked refilling their milk glasses.

"Scotch and chocolate cake," she repeated. "..and cigarettes too. That's what got me through med school."

"Dewars and Duncan Hines. Interesting. I'll make a note to stock up. We both could use a little somethin' somethin'" He dug into his bowl happy to be at least conversing, not worrying about the mixed metaphor he was sending. "So you smoked? I would think that would be a big no-no for a med student."

Jordan looked at him skeptically. The hairs on her arms were still standing up thinking about how...interesting...it would be, if things were different, to spend some quality time with Woody, a bottle of whiskey, and some chocolate. "...Probably."

He filled his mouth with cereal and spoke between chews. "I see. Do as I say, not as I do."

Jordan wasn't insulted. His tone wasn't offensive. "I always had that problem," she said. Still, at least to Woody's ears, her own tone sounded slightly apologetic.

"Jordan..."

"You know I never thanked you for putting me up," she segwayed.

He knew her thank you was sincere. Still, he felt Guilt whispering in his ears.

Walcott had rolled the dice and had come up snake eyes. Woody had been around long enough to know it was a possibility..._a huge_ _probability... _that Jordan's choices would be called to question. He just assumed, like Walcott, that it would happen at the trial. By the time the rusty cogs of the judicial system brought Santos's case to that point, Woody had hoped Walcott and her people would have enough to nail the bastard's coffin shut _without _Jordan's testimony. He was so sure of his assumptions that he drove half the night to hunt Jordan's El Camino down and bring her back... only to get her dragged through the mud.

They say hindsight is twenty/twenty. Her presence at the hearing served only to help the defense. Still, he had to ask himself if he would have done anything differently. Maybe. Sure. But he knew he couldn't let her go again...no matter what the cost.

"Don't worry about it. _Mi Casa es Su Casa_...or something like that. Besides it's nice to have someone who can appreciate a good bowl of cereal in the middle of the night."

Jordan watched the play of emotion cross his face even though he tried to cover. He was still feeling guilty. He was also feeling just as justified. It was a look she'd seen over and over. They both needed a break. A time out. Sun-up would be soon enough to figure out where she goes from there. "Two," she said decisively.

Once again, Woody of caught off guard. He smiled warily. "Two, what?"

Jordan cupped her hands around her bowl and lifted it to her mouth. She slurped the last of the milk in the bottom of the bowl and wiped her hand across her mouth. "Two bowls. Each."

It was the first time Woody saw her really eat in two days. He had to laugh. "Thirds?"

He didn't wait for her to answer and poured a shallow bowl. He topped it with a splash of milk and on a whim he sprinkled a little sugar on top. For the first time, in a very long time, Jordan genuinely smiled. It light up her face. Woody shifted in his seat at the sight and poured himself another bowl.

Maybe it was more due to her lack of sleep rather than the emotional timeout she decided to give herself...Jordan began to notice some things. Inane little things about her surroundings, from the old toy robots littering the room to the way Woody held the spoon in his hand. Minutes passed and Santos, Brandy...even JD began to become almost surreal. Surreal enough to not send her on the verge of a panic attack just thinking about them.

"I once told Lily that my favorite color was purple..." Jordan said looking at the flowers on the counter again. "She didn't forget."

Woody looked over his shoulder at the pastel colored flowers on the counter. By the expression on her face Woody could tell there was more to that story than just an oh-by-the-way factoid. Some day he'd ask her about it. Purple. Just like Lily, he filed that tidbit of information away.

"She loves you very much, you know."

Jordan gently pushed her bowl away. "I haven't always been very lovable," she said thinking about the ring of truth the words they hurled at each other in that hotel room had.

Woody's first instinct was to argue the point. It didn't take The Amazing Kreskin for him to know what she was thinking about. That night was like a flashing light that hovered over them. The logical thing would be to talk it out. What happened was ugly. Ugly, but it kept his body tight ever since. Woody looked away and shrugged. "Everyone has their moments Jordan. God knows, I've had more than my share. Human nature builds in a grading curve that makes us ...lovable... even through our faults."

"Did you learn that in Sociology 101 between your Fruity Pebbles and Bud at community college?" Jordan quipped.

"Actually, it was _Cocoa_ Pebbles and Old Milwaukee. No, I picked it up in the school of hard knocks...even if I'm a slow study."

Jordan grinned. He neglected to add that that school's head mistress was the very woman sitting across the table from him.

Their years together have had more then its share of challenges. Challenges that should have made them both bee-lining in the opposite direction just to avoid running into each other. Yet, there they sat...in his kitchen, eating Cheerios, talking about silly little things like chocolate cake and fruit loops...

...and making her feel like she _could be_ loved...no matter what.

"Call her, Jordan."

Jordan rolled her lips awkwardly. She _needed_ to talk to Lily. She deserved at least that much. If anything, Jordan could try to apologize for the way she's treated her. The way she's treated them all. She couldn't take back the mistakes she's made. It was probably way too late for some of her relationships, but maybe she could do enough smooth this one over.

"I will"

Jordan only wished that the rosy optimism that came from a belly full of dairy and verbal distraction had carried over in the harsh light of morning. Her "emotional time out" felt painfully over. She brushed her hand awkwardly over the waist of her top. Somewhere between playing rock, paper, scissors over the dirty dishes at three in the morning and explaining... to Woody's deaf ears, that his tie didn't match his shirt as he was running out the door at seven, she had decided that it would easier to talk to Lily face to face. If not easier, maybe it would give her more closure. Now, she wasn't feeling so sure. But it was too late. Emmy was buzzing just outside the elevator doors.

"Dr. C!"

* * *

Lily tried to read the file in front of her, but the words just ran together on the page. 

It was her job to counsel. To help other deal with grief and the stresses of the life changes that death of a loved one brings. It didn't take hours of formal training for Lily to know that death came in many forms. And what her best girlfriend was dealing with was more than just the death of an old friend.

Lily put her hand to her mouth thinking about that morning. It seemed like years ago when in fact it was only weeks. So many things have changed. No one was left untouched. There were wounds that would leave scars and there were wounds were new growth would take place. It was only a matter of time to see if some would turn cancerous.

She reached for her phone for the second time that morning. Her first call was picked up by Woody's machine. If Jordan was there, she wasn't answering.

Still, Lily had to try. She'd never give up on Jordan. She couldn't.

Lily barely had the number punched in when there was a knock on the door. She reluctantly hung up and stood up half expecting her next appointment to be early. She was surprised to see Jordan opening the door.

"I hope I'm not intruding," Jordan said peeking her head inside.

"Not at all," Lily said softly rounding her desk. "Please. Please, come in..." Lily didn't stop until Jordan was in her arms. She hugged her tightly even though Jordan's back was still perfectly straight.


	12. Her Best Friend

Chapter 12: Her Best Friend

Lily held her at arm's length, not letting go, and looked in her friend's face.

Really looked. Studied, more like it.

She didn't like what she saw when Jordan came back from DC. Lily couldn't quite put her finger on it until this morning. It was Jordan's make-up. She wore it like a mask. While it was still on the heavy side for Jordan, it was lighter than Lily had seen it the handful of times they were in the same room together.

"It's so good to see you Jordan. I've been worried."

Still hold Jordan's hand, Lily led her over to the sofa and sat down. Jordan didn't have any other choice but to follow. If she wanted to make a quick escape Lily wasn't about to make it easy.

"I'm fine. I, ah, wanted to thank you for the flowers. They're very nice."

"When I saw them I thought you'd like them. I missed you Jordan."

Jordan was a little surprised by that statement. She accepted the fact that Lily worried. Lily worried about everything from world peace to the mean-sprinted stray cat that lived in the alley behind Jordan's apartment building. It was in her nature to be a worrier. Jordan didn't think she'd be _missed_.

"I ruined your wedding day Lily. Be honest. You were a little relieved that I wasn't around to be a constant reminder..."

"I can't believe you'd think that Jordan," Lily gasped, stunned. "Of course, I missed you. It wasn't your fault that things worked out the way they did. Jeffery and I were making a huge mistake. The wedding would have been off ...irregardless. You're my best friend Jordan."

"Some friend," Jordan chuckled bitterly. "I treated you and Garret...everyone, like shit..."

"If you're talking about what happened outside the courtroom, don't worry about it. You were just chewed up and spit out by some dickhead lawyer. I'd be a little upset too."

"It's not just that...although I am _soooo_ sorry I talked to you that way...but I've made some bad choices Lily. Not only did I put you, and everyone I care about, in a very awkward position, I've said things ...did _things_ that will always make people question just who I am. I don't blame you, or anyone for that matter, for not wanting to have anything to do with me."

"Why would anyone not want to have anything to do with you Jordan?"

"Lily. Do you really want me to spell it out for you? Every night I took my clothes off and let men with sweaty hands grope me for all for a buck. If they coughed up another twenty I'd take to a back room and give them a lap dance. I willing had sex with the men looking for the ones responsible for JD's murder. And then there's Woody..."

Lily put up her hand to cut Jordan's speech off.

"You did what you had to do to survive Jordan. You were set up for murder...and less than a day later you were the only witness to another. Who knows if they would have come back and killed you next? Everything was so crazy. You knew what needed to be done to keep yourself safe and you did it. How can I not admire you for the strength that took? And as for Woody..."

Jordan listened as Lily's voice trailed out. Lily truly cared about Woody. From a comment here and a remark there, Jordan knew their friendship only became more solid after his shooting. It only goes to figure Lily be protective of him. But Lily wasn't in that hotel room. She didn't witness what happened. Still, she could probably guess.

Lily wasn't thinking about Woody's trip to DC or the affect of what he found there had on him. No, she was thinking about the many times she cornered him during Jordan's disappearance. She witnessed the messy aftershocks of his break-up with Detective Simmons firsthand. Things like that are never pretty and Lily had her own messy separation to compare it to. The circumstances surrounding Woody's only made it seem just that much more ironic.

"...He's a lot tougher that you think."

Jordan tried to blink back the tears gathering in her throat. A few escaped, clinging on his eyelashes. "I should have done things so differently."

Jordan didn't know if she was just talking about DC or her entire life. Maybe it was a little of both.

Lily rolled her eyes totally unaware of Jordan inner dialog. "I selfishly thought I had it tough too. You wouldn't believe the amount of crap that goes with canceling a wedding at the last minute. I thought I had roadblocks. If it weren't for the support of the people around me I would have never been able to face them. I can't imagine compounding it all a thousand-fold and doing it alone like you did. You deserve to be a little cranky Jordan, you of all people know how many...women we get through here. Not all of them are here because of some kind of violence. Only the strong can survive in that world and not only did you survive, but you kept your wits about yourself and you caught a killer. The self-confidence and determination that took, I'm in awe."

"JD's murderer walked because of me."

"He was _caught_ because of you. It's only a matter of time before he's locked up for good."

"I wish I had your confidence."

Lily reached out for her hands again. "I can understand where you'd have doubts. You have to believe me that there are some good people working hard to make sure he can't go get a paper without Walcott knowing about it. It's only a matter of time. You're a hero Jordan. I'm proud to call you my best friend."

Jordan sniffed back a more tears and let Lily wrap her fingers around hers. The little comfort of the action felt good. "You don't know how much that means to me. But you know this won't end here. There's no rewind button. The whole world knows what I did. My, ah, _reputation_ will only hurt everyone I care about."

"Since when have any of us cared about what the world thought?" Lily snorted. "We're all we've got Jordan. We're _family_ and family doesn't turn its back because of somebody, who only has half the facts, is talking out of their butt."

The vehement tone Lily used was softened when she circled her thumb and lower forefinger together to demonstrate how she thought a butt would talk. It was so ridiculous and so not like Lily. It was also just what Jordan needed. She laughed through her tears and thanked Lily when she handed her a tissue.

Dabbing her eyes and catching a very cleansing breath, Jordan said, "I missed you too Lily."

Lily wiped her tears and ran the tissue under her nose. "Good. Because that means you'll think twice about leaving us again."

Lily's support and love was one thing but there were still, consequences...irrevocable damage out there that Jordan didn't know if she could live day-to-day with. She gave Lily a watery, bittersweet smile.

"No Jordan," Lily sighed. "You're not thinking about leaving again."

"I haven't decided what I'm going to do yet."

"Take your time Jordan. Don't rush into anything."

Jordan nodded. She couldn't make any promises...to Lily or herself.

"So..." Lily said brightly, effectively closing the topic so Jordan couldn't say something Lily didn't want to hear. "How are things going over at Woody's?"

The change snapped Jordan out of her lonely thoughts. She answered warily.

"Good, I guess. We haven't killed each other over the bathroom counter space yet."

"I bet it's still pretty cozy though." Lily's lips spread into a sly grin.

Jordan wrapped her tissue around her finger and recrossed her legs. "It's...not what you think..."

"And what _do_ I think?"

"We're not. He insisted I take the bed and he'd take the couch. It's only temporary." She stumbled over her words. "Not _temporary_ in the fact that we're not sleeping in the same bed..."

"It is a big bed Jordan."

"What!"

Lily smiled at the nerve she hit. Jordan wasn't as dead inside as she wanted to make it sound.

"I helped him do his laundry for that first few weeks after he was injured."

"...oh."

"There's nothing wrong with finding a little...relief...when the opportunity presents itself Jordan. God knows, you both could use it."

"Lily!"

"Be real Jordan. I'm not deaf, dumb and blind. I held your hand when Woody was shot. I admit I was a little confused after, but it all became very clear when you were both stranded in the snow last winter. One night of great sex is as rejuvenating as a week spent lounging on the beach."

Jordan rubbed her forehead. Since when was the words "I Slept with Woody Hoyt" tattoo there?

"It's not like your both new to the idea. We all need someone we can turn to. Someone who can remind us that we are alive..."

"Thank you Dr. Ruth." Jordan winced.

"I'm serious Jordan. Are you two the only people in the world that don't see it?"

"Even if I wanted _to see it_, as you most eloquently put it," Jordan pointed out, feeling uncomfortably exposed, "I'm not so sure Woody would feel the same way."

"You need glasses girl." Lily harrumphed.

"My eyesight's fine, thank you. I just think Woody's eyes are finally wide open."

"He loves you," Lily said softly.

"He loved the idea of loving me. Trust me, he's over that now."

"I can't believe..."

"He told me Lily. Actually, he screamed it in my face."

Jordan's feelings about that night in DC finally found their way to the surface. She didn't pull any punches. She told Lily about Woody finding her notebook and how he reacted. She confessed to Lily about sneaking out to get that last bit of information that JD died for. She told her about leaving the club for the least time and not wanting to face that rest of the night alone. She gave her the ugly play-by-play of the fight they had when she found him still in the rented room. She told Lily everything. Everything up to a point.

Lily listened intently to every word and began to read between the lines. Her eyes narrowed when Jordan abruptly halted. "You're leaving something out."

Jordan shifted uncomfortably. The tissue in her hand was managed mess. She tossed in the trashcan Lily had next the couch. After everything said she knew better than to try and lie.

"He kissed me. It wasn't really a kiss but more of ...an assault."

Lily's hand hovered over her chest "Oh God Jordan. Please tell he didn't ..."

"No! No...he, ah...let me go."

"But..."

"I needed to feel again. Even if it was pain. He was pissed-off and drunk. I...I forced the issue. We were both out of control. It just...happened."

Lily didn't know what to say. After a long pause she cleared her throat. "Did he hurt you?"

Jordan had just spent the evening at The Chambers. She did anything and everything she needed to stage her final revenge on the man that ordered JD's assassination. In her minds eye, she deserved every horrible thing Lily was thinking. Only it didn't end up that way. Jordan's mouth went dry thinking about how explosive her orgasm was and how it cemented just how cheap she had become.

"No. Not in that way. We both hurt each other Lily and there's no going back from something like that."

Lily blinked. That explained the strange vibe she felt from both of them when they got back. Still, she didn't need to be a student of human nature to see that what Woody was feeling was more than just a lion's share of guilt for taking advantage of what Jordan had offered. While she wasn't happy to hear that Woody treated her so cruelly after learning what she'd been through, Lily didn't want to judge him too harshly. Jordan had used him.

The old Woody was like a little puppy that hounded Jordan's heals, waiting for the least amount of gratitude in return. During one of he and Lily's laundry dates, Woody confided in her that he was ready to move on from Jordan's shadow. She wanted to box his ears, but it was already too late...

Jordan had found JD. She seemed content. Lily left it alone. Who was she to throw stones? Her own glass house had more than its share of men ringing the doorbell. She had to admit she was kind of happy to see Woody find Detective Simmons. Woody's a good man. He deserved some kind of happiness. At least until he and Jordan stopped running from fate and finally came to their senses.

"Woody's been by your side every free minute he's had. He even offered you a place to live Jordan. That doesn't sound like a man that's given up on you. The question is; how do you feel Jordan? Are you still hurt by what happened between you two?"

"Do you mean in the hotel room or the last five years in general?" Jordan asked with a shaky smile.

"I think they go hand-in-hand."

"I don't know."

"Then let me ask you this then. What would hurt more: The mistakes of the past or the idea of a future without him in it?"


	13. Where Does That Leave Us?

Chapter 13: "Where Does That Leave Us?"

"_Then let me ask you this then. What would hurt more: The mistakes of the past or the idea of a future without him in it?" _

Lily's question haunted her for the rest of the day. Jordan spent that time kicking aimlessly around downtown. She stopped to watch tourists and locals alike, taking in the soggy smells and oppressive humidity that was the city in the height of summer.

Right after Jordan left Lily's office she ran face-to face into Nigel. He hugged her tightly and pointblank asked her when she was coming back to work. He reminded her that Boston was her home. Could she leave it again? Starting over meant leaving everything she cared about behind. She walked out the morgue with a few awkward reminders that she was fodder for the office gossip for weeks. There would always be some people who worked there that would disapprove of her, but Nigel only proved the point that the ones that truly counted were all on her side. He assured it would die down the second the gossip mill found something else to grind. Garret would make sure of it.

Jordan began to make a mental list of pros and cons on where the next chapter of her life would play out.

"_...What would hurt more._.._"_

There were still one tall, blue-eyed negative that voided the long list of positives out.

She found herself down by the river pier. The same pier she and Woody once spent many early morning hours running along. There weren't any runners in the late afternoon, only people milling around between the long days in their air-conditioned offices spaces and an evening of trendy restaurants and even trendier drinks. She was shocked to see Woody leaning against one of the rails looking out across the dirty water.

He was checking his watch. Maybe he was waiting for someone. Just because she was staying at his apartment, he didn't need to pass his social schedule with her. Jordan turned her eyes up and down the boardwalk half expecting to see Lu's blonde head walking toward him. Striding, marching ...aiming. Lu never just walked. She walked with a single-minded purpose. She always had places to go, people to see.

Felons to arrest.

Call it a new old habit, but even though the charges against her had been dropped Jordan still didn't feel up to running into her in public. She was about to turn and slink way quietly, an unobserved, when she heard her name being called out.

* * *

The sun was hanging like a fireball in the western sky as Woody finished testifying in a case he'd closed half a year ago. He pushed open the glass doors of the Suffolk County Court House and took a deep breath. The heat and humidity scorched his lungs, but it was better than the stale air that circulated in the courthouse. 

The defendant's lawyer had gone after him like Woody had expected. Attacking the time line; questioning the forensics evidence; trying to make it appear like Woody hadn't done his job. After five years of practice sitting on the opposite side of the witness bench of lawyer like him, Woody was more than ready for everything the defender had thrown after him. In the end, the lawyer couldn't discredit the autopsy evidence Bug had put together.

Woody moved across the parking lot and unlocked his Chevy. The suspect, a father of five, was up on capital murder charges. He was probably looking at life. The mothers of his children will never see a penny of support from him. His children would grow up knowing their father was a murderer.

Woody supposed he should feel bad. He supposed it was the compassionate, human way to feel. But he was there for the autopsy of the victim. He work long hours on the investigation. The victim had kids of her own. She worked two jobs to support them...and feed her habit...because the father's, like her killer's, idea of being there was to come around only when he needed to scratch an itch or a place to lay low.

So what, if one of her jobs was turning tricks? She was still a victim and Woody was fresh out of compassion for anybody but the victim. Even though when he was investigating the case, he had to muster up that belief.

Six months ago a junkie hooker was just another criminal. She didn't deserve to be murdered. Nobody deserves that. But he felt like if she made the choice to do what she did for a living, she needed to take responsibly to know her risks. His resolve changed when he watched the ADA flash the all-to-familiar pictures of her body on the power-point screen. Only this time he didn't see her...he saw Jordan.

He checked in at the precinct to sign out for the day and stopped to ask for an update on JD's case. The cop in Woody knew Santos wasn't stupid. He wouldn't so much as spit on the sidewalk until the case had gone officially cold and his tail was gone. An update was an exercise in futility, but he still had to go through the motions.

One of those motions was to talk to Lu. His personal life may have hit the toilet, but his professional one hummed along with barely a hiccup. He and Lu had no other choice but to deal with each other. It was their job. For Woody, cold sweat pooled in the small of his back every time he had to be in the same room with her, where as Lu was as always cool as a cucumber.

Not too cold... professional, indifferent, just that ambiguous point between happy camaraderie and open hostility. She gave him the same report she gave the lieutenant...word-for-official-word.

Woody asked her for the umpteenth time if she wanted to talk about what happened. She reiterated that she had said all she had to say. That she didn't have the same honesty issues that he had. She never kept anything from him. Communication was his problem not hers.

He wanted her to scream at him. Kick, throw a tantrum, something...anything. Tell him he was a jerk, tell him she hated him, just like Jordan did...but Lu remained almost apathetic when it came to what they shared. Hate would have been so much easier to stomach than responsibility.

Not that he deserved easier. Maybe that was the point. Lu had a piece of paper that said she had a doctorate in messing with someone's head.

Some how he doubted it. Lu had never been anything but an open book. His part in their relationship could be compared to an episode of Springer and hers...Oprah.

Lu was right. Communication has always been his problem. He was a natural when it came to interrogating a suspect. He could sit in a witness chair, and under the pressure of cross examination, describe a murder scene down to the finest detail...all without breaking a sweat. But when it came to his own life, he could never find the words. It was what went wrong with every romantic relationship he'd ever had. Annie, Lu...Jordan.

Woody found himself down by the river. To go home he would have to face his communication issues.

It was easy to lose one's worries watching the brackish current flow toward the bay. Only eventually gave them all back.

Even though he didn't want to, Woody would find himself thinking about Jordan. It goes to figure. They spent many mornings jogging along the wharf and even a few evenings barhopping through the brick store fronts that lined the way. In the back of his mind, this was _their_ place.

It became painfully obvious while he was drying the dishes Jordan had washed last night that she was ready to think about her future. Talking to Lily was the first step. The next would be to make some choices on where she went from there. Selfishly, he didn't know if he was ready.

The sun dipped behind a building casting a long shadow along the banks of the river. It was getting late. He wasn't hungry but he knew one of Jordan's favorite places was less than a block away. Woody checked his watch and debated whether to call her and see if she felt up to coming down or if he should just bring home some take-out.

As if he could conger her up out of thin air, Woody looked up in time to see her turn around and slip into the shadows. He was quick to call out her name.

* * *

Jordan mouthed a curse for not making a clean get away. There was no way she could be congenial to Woody and his...whatever. 

_"The mistakes of the past..." _

He called again, closer this time. She painted what she hoped was a charming smile on her face and turned around. "Hi."

"I was just about to call you," Woody said reaching her side.

"You don't need to check up on me Wood. I can fend for myself," she nodded her head, like she was confirming it to herself.

"What are you talking about?"

"Dinner."

"Dinner was why I was calling," he said with a grin. "Your here so...why _are_ you here?"

"I was just. I just kind of ended up here. I'm sorry if I'm interrupting anything. I'll just..." she pointed out to the street in the direction she was parked.

"Interrupting?" It dawned on him that she thought he was there with someone. He looked up and down the boardwalk and rubbed the back of his neck, with a smile. "I was calling to see if you wanted to meet at that Italian place you like. After the day I had I could use some fried calamari and a friendly face across from me."

Not more than fifteen minutes ago he was avoiding her. Now he couldn't think of a better why to decompress from the day than sharing a meal with her.

"That bad?" she asked, referring to his scheduled court appearance.

"Nothing I couldn't handle..."

He held out his hand for her to take. She didn't move. Jordan smiled uncertainly and looked at him for several heartbeats.

"I think we should talk first."

"Sure," he said drawing a careful breath. _I think we should talk first_. Six of the most terrifying words in the English language...at least where Woody was concerned.

"It's over; at least for now. It's time for me to make some choices...about where I go from here."

There it was out in the open. One of the subjects he was hiding from. Woody looked at his feet before he said anything.

"I can tell you that Canada gets colder sooner and stays that way longer than Boston. The Baseball sucks...and that whole thing about the Public Health System is highly overrated..."

Jordan's lips twitched at his ardent case.

"I don't think you need to worry about the Canadian Government asking you to be a good will ambassador." She took a deep breath before she continued blithely. "Besides, Canada is only one option."

The way she said it made Woody think that Boston wasn't high on that list of options.

He leaned forward, his voice falling, almost pleading. "Why go anywhere?"

"I need a fresh start."

"But I thought...you talked to Lily didn't you?

"Yes," she said with a sad grin. "No matter what she said I still disappointed her."

"Leaving isn't going to change what happened Jordan."

Her eyes clouded. "I know that."

He reached out, cupping his hand lightly over her shoulder. "You can't erase it no matter how far you run. It'll still be there no matter where you go. Boston is your home. This is the place where you are the strongest. Your friends are here..."

Jordan's own hand reached up to cover Woody's briefly. "I know. Nigel told me the same thing," her voice dropped, confiding.

Nigel had ended up teasing her about being put out that he didn't design her stripper's wardrobe. Instead of taking it as an offense, Jordan only saw the love and support that poured out of his eyes. Lily was right. They didn't think any less of her.

"He told me that I was missed and that I'm needed."

"If you left you'd leave a big hole in the M.E.'s office. Stay Jordan." His thumb brushed her face.

She grinned at the touch but still took a tiny step away. Woody dropped his hands.

"My job at the morgue is not the issue. My bad choices make it impossible to stay."

He studied her thoughtfully for a second. "We're not just talking about ...Judge Gordon and The Chambers are we?"

"You and I will always have this _thing_ between us," she said pointing at the space between them. "I'm worried it's too much to overcome."

"I was an ass. A self-centered, hotheaded jerk..."

In DC, he had reacted on sheer emotion. Time had given him a chance to look back and see that he should have handled everything differently. "I wish I could take that night away...but I can't. For that I'll always be sorry."

"The sex was one thing Woody, but I'm talking about your incapability to understand why I needed to finish what JD started."

It was his turn to give her an uncomfortable smile. He shoved his hands in his pant pockets and looked out over the water before he spoke.

"I admit I'll never see what made Pollack worth it. But I've had a chance to look back and put myself in your shoes. I think love is a choice you make. Too few people realize that you can choose to love and to hate...or to be indifferent to the feeling of others. It guides our actions. It makes everything we do in the name of love worth the sacrifice. I know that if came to those I really cared about...I'd move heaven and earth to get them justice. I'd be a hypocrite to think you wouldn't do the same."

Woody had egoistically once thought she was unable to love. He now saw the selfless sacrifices she made because of it. She put it all out there. Win or lose she gave it her all.

Woody never gave it his all. After his shooting he told her that he didn't need her. He liked to think it was a noble act of his own...but if he really looked in the mirror it was because he didn't want to put himself out there because he didn't trust her with his heart. Pollack trusted in her ability to love. He put his heart out there for her to take...and because of that Woody would always be second best.

"I may not understand completely, but I have to admire your loyalty to him and what you did for love," he said gave her a tender, but solemn smile.

Jordan nodded, processing what he was trying to tell her. "Where does that leave us?" she asked softly.

"I guess it leaves us right where we started."

"And where is that?"

"There is no way I can compete with a dead man...or any other guy that'll come along for that matter. Not now. I can only hope that we can find a way to get back to being friends."

It wasn't what she wanted to hear.

JD and the other men in her life may have been "dangerous" on the outside, but Woody, and all his real faults, was far more dangerous to her then the rest combined.

With the others there was always at least one thing that kept her feelings in perspective. She never really settled on what Woody's "one thing" was. By the time she thought she felt the need to think about it was too late. He had already somehow wormed his way under her skin. He brought out the better in her and the worst. It also did the same with him.

Jordan couldn't help but wonder if the combination these things were why their timing was always just a tick off.

The smile she flashed didn't do a very good job of hiding her disappointment. "I see."

Woody wasn't fooled. He watched the play of emotions cross her face as she folded her arms around her middle. Once again he felt hung by his tongue. "Jordan. I'm really trying here."

"I understand. I do...really," she said notching her chin up a fraction. "It just goes to prove that it's time to make some changes..."

"Don't make up your mind because of me...or what I did," he said, his jaw twitching ever so slightly.

"We're back on that aren't we? I told you the sex was my fault. You need to stop blaming yourself."

"You're damn right I blame myself. I only hope that I someday I can make it up to you..."

Jordan put up her hand cutting him off. "So what you are trying tell me is that everything...all the things you've done for me...is because of guilt."

"No. Okay, yes...it's was part of it. A big part."

"Part of it?" she asked incredulously.

"My motives were selfish too. You were...broken by what you'd been through and by...me. I was being protective...even though I told myself I wouldn't do that anymore."

Jordan smiled. "I wasn't in any danger Woody. If they thought I was Walcott would have locked me up."

"It was less to do with protecting you from harm...or even yourself. It was more to give you a safe zone where you could concentrate on taking care of yourself."

"...oh."

"You needed some space Jordan. I wanted to make sure you didn't need to fight to find it."

"Thank you Woody."

Woody can't help himself, he had to touch her. He had to. He slid hand along her jaw, his thumb brushing over her earlobe.

"I couldn't let you go through this alone Jordan. I care too much about you..." He stopped short of telling her he loved her even though anyone walking by could see it as plain as day in his eyes.

Jordan saw it too. He spoke to her with those beautiful eyes. Concern, respect, affection, confusion. She doesn't know what to make of him and never did. His touch, his words, his very presence should make her anxious...or at least want reclaim her personal space. She needed to remember he just wanted to "be friends". He didn't want a future with her.

Instead she leaned in closer, anchoring herself with a soft hand on his chest. She stood on her toes and lifted her lips to his.


	14. Closure

Chapter 14: Closure

Her lips were soft. They moved lightly over his. His answer was just as tender.

...almost chaste.

The hand on the side of her neck stilled. Jordan pulled back thinking she had made a huge mistake. One look at his face made her breath catch in the back of her throat. There was no mistaking his reaction. His lips parted sexily as he stared at hers. He cupped her jaw and traced her lower lip with his thumb, making her shiver.

It took her the space of two heartbeats to realize he was waiting. Once again he was giving her space. Without speaking he was telling her what she wanted to hear. He wanted her, but he was letting her set the ground rules. Giving her complete control.

Love struck her, as it often did...without warning. Not the steady day-to-day feeling she had grown used to when it came to her feelings for him, but the hot, wild spurt of it that geysered up and filled her with so many feelings they couldn't be separated. The last time she let herself feel that way about him she knew there would be consequences. In the end those actions only brought more monkeys on her back, ruining three lives in the process. Fate was handing her a second chance. Giving them both a chance.

She echoed the words he said earlier. "I care about you too..."

_Care; Love, _the right words would come in due time. For now, _"care"_ was where they needed to be. They still had problems. Jordan knew they probably always would. But for the first time in their long relationship Jordan didn't want them to avoid them.

Woody let out the metaphorical breath he'd been holding since she said she wanted to talk. She didn't come out and say she'd changed her mind and was staying. He had his work cut out for him. He knew from that moment on he wouldn't let a second go by without making her feel needed and treasured as a colleague, as a friend, and the woman that, despite all their mutual shortcomings, meant the very world to him. If he was lucky he wouldn't have to do it from a different time zone.

Jordan stunned him further by giving him a dazzling smile and wrapping her arms around his neck. His own arms snaked around her waist and this time he kissed her. Not hard and deep, but long and loving...Just enough to let her know...if she could possible have any doubt...that he was head over heals crazy about her. Not just the warm female body he was holding...but the complicated woman inside.

She felt human for the first time in a very long time. It was like she reclaimed part of herself she that she'd lost forever. What happened to her in DC would always be part of her. For the rest of her life it would be part of how she lived...shaping her relationships with those she loved, the way she saw herself in outsider's eyes.

But standing there, strangers walking past; some gawking, some too wrapped up in their own world too care; displaying herself in that blatantly sexual way was a lifetime away. Wrapped securely in his arms she didn't fell like an object. She felt cherished.

When it was over she opened her eyes to find his on her. Smoky, affectionate ...shaky... as if he was thinking the same thoughts. Even though they had hurt each other in the past, he wanted to try and make it right.

He rubbed his hands up and down her back, holding her against him, but not too close. For that she was thankful. She toyed with the knot of his tie. For as ridiculous as it sounded, Jordan felt as nervous as she did the first time she shared a kiss with a boy.

"Come on; let me buy you dinner," he smiled.

"Calamari?" she smiled back.

"Whatever you want, as long as you're sitting next to me."

Like he did earlier, Woody held out his hand. Like before she didn't take it. Instead she tucked her arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder.

"I can't think of any other place I'd rather be."

* * *

_Six Months Later_

Steam drifted up from the manhole covers that dotted the center of the street. Lights from the restaurants and bars lining both sides of it lit up patches of sidewalk. Occasional laughter from the bars leaked out into the night, along with a street corner Santa's bell, broke up the monotonous drone of the evening traffic.

The temperature was probably hovered right around freezing, but it felt colder with the wind coming off the river. Woody was quickly losing feeling in his toes despite the heavy socks and boots he was wearing. His fingers were already gone, but not before coffee is his hand was ice cold... and that was about fifteen minutes before he finished it. He stood next to the passenger side door of Jordan's road salt covered El Camino and studied her profile where she stood a street light away. He'd give her ten more minutes..._give or take as long as she needed_, he thought to himself.

With a flick of his numb wrist, he tossed his empty cup in a nearby trashcan. A man in an overcoat hustled by, huddled down over a bag of take-out from one of the restaurants. He stopped next to Woody, holding up his arm to hail a nearby cab and Woody caught a whiff of fried calamari coming from his bag. It took him back to that hot, steamy ...wonderful July night he and Jordan had split a plate.

He also remembered the kisses. But more importantly he remembered that by the time they left the restaurant, Jordan had told him she was going to stay in Boston. '_Try'_ was her exact word. _Try _was good enough. They could work with _try_.

A week past, neither of them brought up the fact that Jordan was still didn't have an address. Nor did they talk about status of JD's case. She was the first to make an appointment to see Stiles, Woody followed soon after. Woody hated to admit he needed the man's help...but he was happy he did it.

Within a month, Jordan was back to work fulltime. Still, the subject of Jordan moving out never seemed to come up. They fell into a comfortable routine of sharing meals, chores and the occasional kisses. One night in late September, Woody kissed Jordan good night outside the bedroom door. Instead of just saying 'good night', Jordan invited him in.

He'd like to say the night was magical. He remembers being worried he'd do something wrong. The night in the hotel room in DC haunted his every move. For Jordan it went further back than that. For her it was their first time. At least the first time that really counted.

It was the first time they made love without hidden agendas or false hopes. They took their time to open and honestly rediscovered each other. Lovingly, they encountered new barriers and over the next few months they worked together to tenderly tear them down and replace them with confidence and self-esteem. He didn't need to sleep on the sofa again.

With each passing day Woody's love for Jordan grew stronger. Still, there were shadows hanging over them. Santos was still free and Jordan was still living out of her suitcase.

Thanksgiving Lily offered to make a real turkey dinner and Woody offered the place in which to serve it. Nigel helped get Jordan's dining room table out of storage. Woody assured Jordan it was just for the day.

Just before halftime in the Detroit/Dallas game the phone rang. Woody took the call in the bedroom. Santos's body had washed up in Maryland. The COD was two bullets to the back of the head. The murder was under investigation. Garret said they had many things to be thankful for that season. Woody was thankful that Santos was rotting in Hell.

One shadow gone, one more to go. Jordan's table went back into storage.

The chains on a city truck's tires clanged past the parked car bringing Woody back to the present. He stomped his feet a few time to get the blood circulating again. Ten hours and two tanks of gas ago Jordan skimmed halfheartedly through the 'for rent' ads in the morning paper, like she did every weekend morning, and then turned to Woody asking him for a favor. Not her usual favors, she assured him. Something more personal. He readily agreed.

She wanted to go to Washington. Woody picked up the phone to make what he thought were the necessary arrangements. Reservations, time off from work. Jordan simply picked up her keys and her purse. She said if they left right away they'd make the beltway before dark. Woody only wished he'd taken time to pull on an extra sweater.

The conversations were pretty one-side on the trip. Jordan said very little. The closer they got to Washington the more tense she became. Woody began to question the wisdom of their spontaneity. Dr. Stiles once told Woody that Jordan still needed closure. That was why she couldn't commit to officially living with him. He could only assume closure was the reason they were there. When they turned down the street The Chambers was on Woody noticed her hands visibly shaking. He pulled over suggesting a cup of coffee before they went any further. Jordan left hers on the coffee shop counter and set out the rest of the way on foot.

The Chambers looked exactly the same as it had the first time he saw it. Only this time he tried to look at it through Jordan's eyes. She looked at it like it was something alive. He asked her if she wanted to go inside. She just mumbled 'no'. He left her standing there across the street from the oak and brass doors.

Never more than a few feet away, he watched over her as people walked past them, seemingly indifferent to the business taking place on the other side of those brownstone walls. Occasionally someone would go in or come out the doors. An hour past. Jordan just stood there...staring.

Woody checked his watch. He was beginning to worry. Slowly he walked over to her and stood by her side.

"It's just a building, isn't it?" she asked never taking her eyes off the sight.

Woody looked at the architecture for a second and said "It's just a building Jordan."

A few minutes past and she didn't do anything except taking a deep breath.

"Do you love me?" she asked finally, in a small voice.

Woody looked away from the building and once again was caught up in delicate beauty of her profile. "...Yes, I do. I love you very much."

"Why me when you can find someone who's less...complex?"

"I tried. In the end there is nothing about you that can be replaced. It's you I want."

She blinked hard and turned to look at him. "I love you Woody," she declared softly, sincerely.

Woody's smile was warm, and to Jordan it looked sexy as hell. She rewarded him with one of her own. He wanted to swing her up in his arms and scream his pleasure out loud. Not here. Not in this place. Instead he cupped her cheeks and brushed his lips over her chilly ones.

"I love you..."he whispered.

Her skin was grey from the cold. He murmured disjointed, comforting words pulling his hands out of his gloves and tucking the collar of her jacket closer around her neck.

They both glanced back at the building. Her smile faltered, her lips rolled to the side, but she looked stronger somehow. Like she was truly convinced it was just a building. Woody knew whatever conclusions, closures or decisions she made, she was going to keep them between herself...and JD.

Turning away for the last time Jordan held out her hand.

"Let's go home."

Woody let his fingers weave through hers. He knew she wasn't just talking about Boston, but she was also talking about his..._their_...apartment. Their life together.

"Let's go home."

THE END

* * *

_AN: I hope I gave everyone and ending they can live with...even if it was written completely in Woody's after-the-fact POV. If I tried to go into Jordan's mind too far I'm afraid it would be the end of season SEVEN and Chapter 400 before I felt like I could give them some peace. We'd all be bored to death by then. ;)_

_Thank you for all the kind feedback I've received. Like any fan-ficer, it's my drug of choice._

_Jo. _


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